The Trio Who Returned
by Technomad
Summary: The Trio are dead...or are they? All of a sudden, they have new powers, powers the Dark Lord doesn't know about, along with a thirst for blood and an aversion to sunlight. Vampire!Harry, no ships.
1. Chapter 1

The Trio Who Returned, Chapter 01

By Technomad

Hardly daring to believe his luck, Amycus Carrow crept closer. He had managed to do something that no other Death Eater had ever been able to do...ambush and kill not just Harry Potter, but his two closest friends!

He had caught them off guard; they had just come back to London from Little Whinging, having bid farewell to Harry's horrible Muggle relatives. How any wizard could have any goodwill for Muggles, relatives or no, was beyond Amycus' comprehension. He hadn't crept close to overhear, although he had known where Harry Potter would be. That had been the information he needed to lay his ambush.

And now...now he had succeeded! The westering sun painted the tops of the nearby buildings red, but the narrow alley in which Potter and his friends lay was dark. Casting a quick spell to improve his vision, Amycus leaned down to make sure that his spell had worked. It had been an experimental spell, designed to suck all life out of its targets. One of its big advantages over the Killing Curse was that it _was_ experimental, and the Ministry, at least as far as the Death Eaters knew, didn't have ways to track its use.

Stooping, Amycus felt Harry Potter's neck. He had been trained as a Healer before taking the Dark Mark, and he knew what to feel for. Sure enough, there was no sign of a pulse, and Harry's flesh was cooling rapidly. Looking around, the Death Eater saw no signs of Muggles around, so he risked using his wand for some light. Prying open one of Harry's eyes, he flashed the light, and hissed in pleasure when the sudden brightness caused no contraction of the pupil. That, he knew, was one of the surest signs of death. Not wanting to have the Muggles catch him in this filthy alley, Amycus Apparated away, to a nearby Death Eater safe-house.

With a smile, Amycus began to think. _Wouldn't it help to have some sure proof? If I came in with that annoying boy's head, not to mention his two friends' heads, nobody could doubt that they're really dead!_

The wish was father to the deed; in a few minutes, he had Apparated back to the alley. This part of London was nearly deserted. It had been a perfect place to set an ambush.

Overhead, the stars were beginning to come out, although the glow of London made them hard to see. The bodies lay where they had fallen, eyes glazed and sprawling in the debris of the alley. Taking out his knife, Amycus bent down and gripped Harry Potter's hair.

The next thing he knew, Harry had him by the throat in an inhumanly strong grip.

Wiping blood from his lips, Harry looked down at the dead Death Eater. "Well, this is a turn-up, isn't it?"

Ron was shaking his head, confused. "What happened, mate? Last I remember, we were heading to Grimmauld Place; now I'm waking up, feeling like I could wrestle Hagrid. And…what's this on my mouth?" He licked his lips, then wiped at his face, staring at the red smear on his hand with dawning recognition. "Bloody _hell_...this is blood, isn't it?"

"Yes. After I took care of this Death Eater, I smeared blood on your mouths to revive you."

"You smeared _what_? And...why can I see in the dark? It should be blacker than Snape's heart in this alley, but I can see just fine."

"Ron, think. I know it hurts, but _try_." Hermione's voice was a mixture of fondness and exasperation. "While you're doing it, run your tongue over your teeth."

Ron did as Hermione suggested, his eyes widening in shock. "Bloody hell...my teeth! All of a sudden, I've got fangs!"

Harry and Hermione smiled at him, showing their own razor-sharp canine teeth. "And what does this suggest to you, Ron?" Hermione asked gently.

"I'm..._we're vampires_!" Now that the last piece of the puzzle was in place, Ron visibly struggled with the idea for a second. Then he smiled widely. "Wicked!"

"Wicked or no," said Harry, looking around, "we'd best make ourselves scarce before this bugger's friends come looking for him. Twelve Grimmauld Place is close by. I own it, free and clear, and nobody can come there without my leave."

Shortly afterward, the three friends were walking up the front steps of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry gestured, the doors opened wide, and they stepped into the front hall.

At their arrival, Madame Black's portrait awoke, screeching "Mudblood-lovers! Filth! Blood-traitors..." only to subside into terrified silence as the trio turned and stared at her appraisingly.

"Madame Black," said Hermione, almost gently, "I wouldn't even _mention _the word 'blood' if I were you. That Sticking Charm that holds your picture to the wall _isn't_ unbreakable, and, if we were…_annoyed…_enough, any of us could literally pull that wall apart." When the portrait nodded acquiescence, she turned and followed her friends to the front sitting room.

Once they were settled in chairs, they looked at each other. In the light of the lamps, the changes in them were easy to see, at least for friends who had known each other so well for so long. Their skins were pale, almost pasty-white, and their expressions had become feral, red-tinged eyes gleaming with predatory intensity.

"Well, Harry, you did say this was a 'turn-up,'" said Hermione, after a few minutes had passed in silence. "I must admit, this wasn't something I ever expected to happen to me, but now that it has, there's no sense crying about it."

"But how am I going to explain this to my Mum?" cried Ron. "I can just hear _that_ conversation! 'Oh, hi, Mum! No, I'm not going into the Ministry after we defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...I'm going to be a creature of the night!'" His laughter had more than a touch of hysteria in it.

"We can keep this to ourselves, for now. We're all seventeen, and since Dumbledore…died…we've been operating by ourselves, hunting for Horcruces." Harry looked down. "I tried to tell you two that I would be doing this myself…"

Faster than the eye could follow, Hermione was standing in front of Harry, her face twisted in a bestial snarl, as she hauled him to his feet. "We've been over this, Harry James Potter, about a thousand times, and I, for one, am sick of it!" She shook an unresisting Harry back and forth like a rag doll. "You blame yourself whenever something happens to one of our friends. Well...are Ron and I your _house-elves_? Are we under the _Imperius Curse_?" At his headshake, she shoved him back into his chair, leaning in closely. "We made our own decisions to follow where you led! That was why we went to the Ministry, and why we're here now! Quit acting like you're some sort of..._Dark Lord_! We have free will and made our choices freely!"

After a minute, Harry dropped his eyes, acknowledging that she was right. Satisfied, she let him drop. Ron's eyes went wide. "Bloody hell, Hermione! How strong are you now?"

Hermione looked puzzled. "I don't know, Ron. We'll need to experiment and find out just what our powers are. He-Who-Must…er, _V-v-voldemort_…" she struggled to say the name, "gave us advantages that he doesn't even know we have." She looked speculative. "I wouldn't be surprised to find that there's a book somewhere here that tells just what we can and can't do."

"What's wrong, girl? Come here, Hedwig, there's a good owl!" On the roof of Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry tried coaxing Hedwig to come to him, to no avail. Hooting frantically, the snowy owl flapped her wings, soaring up into the night sky. "Ron! Can I borrow Pigwidgeon?" Harry called over his shoulder. "I need to send McGonagall a letter, and Hedwig's not cooperating!"

But Ron had no better luck. When he tried to get the tiny owl to take Harry's letter, Pigwidgeon retreated, screeching, finally taking flight in a flurry of wings. "What ails those owls?" asked Ron, his face creasing with puzzlement. He opened his hand, letting a few owl treats fall on the roof. "Even owl treats didn't work!"

The two friends went back downstairs. "Hermione?" Harry asked. Their female friend was buried in a pile of dusty books they had scoured from the shelves. "Hermione, we have a problem..."

"Never mind that! Look what I can do!" Standing, Hermione threw her arms out, and suddenly she was gone. In her place, a bat fluttered around the room, before turning back into Hermione. Then, before her friends could react, she transformed into a ferocious-looking wolf, and from a wolf, into a rat, and finally, into a cloud of mist, before returning to her own form with a big smile on her face. "It's like the Animagus transformation, but so much simpler! Come on, boys, try it with me!"

Intrigued, Harry and Ron did as she told them to do: "Close your eyes and concentrate on being a bat...or a wolf, or a rat!" Soon all three were happily flying around the room, chasing each other and having a wonderful time. When they stopped playing, the birds' odd behavior had been forgotten.

By that time, dawn was coming on, and they headed down into the basement. When the sun peeped over the roofs of London, the three friends were lying side by side, eyes closed and unmoving, safely far from the dangerous light of day.

END Chapter 01


	2. Chapter 2

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 02

by Technomad

Minerva McGonagall was very worried. She hadn't heard from Harry, or his friends, in several days, until they Flooed into her office with only the briefest advance warning. As they took seats, she noticed that they seemed to have changed.

Where Ron, Hermione and Harry had once been so full of energy that sitting still was an effort, they were all now as still as a spider watching a fly blundering toward its web. Their eyes burned in completely expressionless faces that seemed unnaturally pale and drawn, and there was something feral and predatory about them.

"Would you like tea, or pumpkin juice? Or butterbeer?" she asked, hoping to break the stillness.

Harry seemed to be the spokesman. "No, thank you. We...we're off those things."

"Then, some wine? You're all seventeen, and old enough to drink wine."

Hermione chuckled, a strangely grating sound. "Thank you, Professor, but we never drink..._wine_." At this, Harry laughed, while Ron, for the first time, showed a trace of expression. Plainly, he was as puzzled as McGonagall was.

"Did I say something funny?"

"It's a Muggle joke, Professor, and would take too long to explain. Can you tell us the latest news about the Death Eaters?"

"First, I should show you this. It's a letter from Professor Dumbledore, dated a few days before he left to find that locket. He said that in the event he didn't survive, he wanted me to know that Severus Snape was operating at his orders, and what he did, he did at Professor Dumbledore's command."

"You mean he's on our side?" Hermione leaned forward, her gaze almost hypnotically intense. "Have you proof, other than Dumbledore's word?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Severus?" All turned as a hidden door opened, and Severus Snape stepped forth into the office. Instantly, three wands were trained on him. He raised his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, but I do have a taste for the dramatic," explained McGonagall.

The trio relaxed, but they still reminded McGonagall of predators watching prey. Snape seemed to sense it himself, eyeing the three friends warily. Not taking his eyes from them, he sat down, poised to spring up at a second's notice. He pulled out his wand. "I, Severus Snape, solemnly swear that what I am about to say is the truth." His wand's end flared brightly for a second, marking that he had sworn truly. "I've been working for the Order of the Phoenix since before you were born, Mr. Potter. While I bear the Dark Mark..." he rolled up his sleeve, showing the black skull-with-snake on his left forearm..."the Dark Lord does not hold my allegiance."

Rolling his sleeve down, he went on: "On top of the tower, on that night you remember so well, Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore and I conversed via Legilemency. It serves as a very quick way for two Legilimenses to communicate privately." Snape looked at the floor. "We both knew that Professor Dumbledore was dying, and had been since before the beginning of the school year. That damned ring...one of the magical traps wasn't as disarmed as we had thought it was, and his hand was merely the most visible symptom of what was going on." The former Potions professor closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose with one hand. "He was in so much pain...all the time, pain…" He shook his head, visibly gathering himself. "By the time he came back from that cavern, Mr. Potter, he was keeping himself alive through sheer force of magic, and nobody can do that for long. When I cast that false 'Killing Curse,' all I did was to knock him backward, allowing him to relax his grip on his magic; he was dead before he hit the ground."

"But why..." began Hermione. Snape looked at her steadily.

"Why? I would have thought, Miss Granger, that a witch of your intelligence...and, paranthetically, let me say that a teacher prays to encounter an intellect such as yours, just once in his career...would be able to suss out exactly why. Professor Dumbledore and I both knew of the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's position, and that it would light on me. I must say," and here he gave his audience a rather haggard grin, "that I didn't expect my doom to come in the form of that silly little blighter."

"Draco?"

"Yes, _Draco_!" For an instant, Snape's façade cracked, and McGonagall could see the exasperation he held in check. "If poor Salazar were alive to see that prat-and-a-half in his House, he'd roll over in his grave!"

For some reason, Harry, Ron and Hermione all smiled at that. It was the first time they'd smiled since they had Flooed in, and it wasn't reassuring. Sitting there with them, McGonagall felt rather like a swimmer, too far from shore to swim back quickly, who had just seen some sharks gliding past.

"We believe you," Harry said, after he and his two friends had appraised Snape for a few uncomfortable seconds. "What can you tell us about the Death Eaters? I rather think that, as Professor Dumbledore's 'murderer,' you'd be well up in their ranks."

"I am." Snape looked pleased. "At the moment, they're hiding in various locations. When the Dark Lord wants to summon us, he uses our Dark Marks to call us. We know where to go, and Apparate to that point."

"Give us some of those locations," directed Hermione. Snape nodded and pulled out a map of Britain, with notations on it showing where Death Eaters' hideouts were.

When they had the information they needed, they stood at an unobtrusive signal from Harry. "Thank you for seeing us at such short notice, Professor," said Harry, taking McGonagall's hand for a shake, "and thank you, Professor Snape...or is it just Mr. Snape, now?"

As they Flooed out, McGonagall shuddered. There had been something about them, something strange, something unsettling…and when she had shaken Harry's hand, it had been very cold.

END Chapter 02


	3. Chapter 3

The Trio Who Returned, Chapter 03

by Technomad

Peter Pettigrew was not contented. While he was happy to be free when so many of his brothers were in Azkaban, life as the Dark Lord's personal chew-toy lacked appeal. Voldemort treated him with casual contempt, and most of the Death Eaters despised him, both for having been a Gryffindor and for having betrayed his friends.

Worst of all, his love life was nonexistent. When he had complained to Voldemort, the Dark Lord had laughed and pointed to his new silver hand. "I knew about that, Wormtail. Why do you _think_ I gave you a silver hand? I wanted you to come into money!" At this, all the Death Eaters had laughed; even though not laughing at one of the Dark Lord's jokes could be dangerous, Pettigrew knew that they honestly thought this one was hilarious. He had summoned up a sickly smile, while secretly wishing all of them were dead.

Sitting on the front steps of the Riddle House, overlooking Little Hangleton, he watched as the moon arose over the sleeping town. The moon shone brightly, in a clear sky with just a few clouds scudding along. Behind him, in the house, he heard Bellatrix Lestrange's high-pitched gasps of pleasure, and even though he thought Lestrange was insane and a menace, he couldn't help envying the Dark Lord for having her in his bed.

As he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, he noticed movement near the graveyard. At first, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and squinted to see better.

He hadn't been mistaken...it was a woman! A beautiful woman, with her curly hair pulled into a long thick ponytail, and huge dark eyes in a delicately-carved face. She came toward him slowly, and even though he was supposed to be on watch, he forgot to sound the alarm. Such a lovely being couldn't mean any harm!

"Peter..." she whispered, her voice somehow carrying across the space that separated them. "Peter, darling, I want you."

"M-m-m-me?" stammered Wormtail. With an effort, he got his voice under control. "You want me?"

"Yes, darling Peter, I do want you. Come with me, my love," she purred, staring into his eyes. As she gazed at him, Wormtail found himself forgetting about keeping watch, about the Dark Lord, about the Cause, about everything but this alluring answer to his half-despairing prayers. Willingly, he arose, and followed her away from the house. She turned and led him toward the graveyard.

Once they were in the graveyard, under the shade of the trees, she turned and took him in her arms. "Do you love me, Peter?" she whispered.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" Wormtail had longed for this day. Staring into her eyes, he felt his will eroding, as if he were under the Imperius Curse. She came closer, and kissed him. Even when he felt needle-sharp teeth in his neck, he did not resist.

Hermione looked up. "He's under control. You can come out now." Harry and Ron appeared, seeming to materialize out of the shadows. Hermione gave them a predatory smile. "For such a weak little fellow, his blood is rich and thick and full. Fancy a taste?"

Hungrily, Harry and Ron leaned forward, before standing back. "No, Hermione. I don't think I could keep myself from finishing him off, and we need him alive, for now," said Harry.

"Besides, we fed before we came here," explained Ron. "Down in London. All it took was flashing some cash around in a seedy Muggle pub, and then pretending to be drunk as we staggered out. Our dinners came after us, and caught up to us in a dark alley. Shame, really," he smirked. "I'd thought it would be more difficult. As it was, we left them floating in a sewer."

"Which will give that sewer a bad name, I think," drawled Harry. "You have him under control, Hermione?"

"He's a puppet in my hands, Harry," Hermione replied. "I can see through his eyes and hear through his ears any time I want, and he'll never know the difference."

"Never mind if he knows the difference. Will Voldemort know?"

"I'm honestly not certain. I don't think he'd recognize the symptoms; vampires are rare here in Britain. In any case, we can send this one back and see what happens. If he gets killed for being a spy, we're none the worse off."

"And that couldn't happen to a more deserving person," observed Harry. "Very well, Hermione. He's all yours. I give him to you freely."

Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at the wounds she had left on the Death Eater's throat. "_Stypto_!" The wand flashed, and the wounds closed up. "No need alerting the Death Munchers prematurely, and Wormtail here won't tell...will you, Wormie?" She patted his cheek mockingly. "And when your Hermione calls for you, you'll come willingly, and tell me all you know, won't you?"

Wormtail shook himself. He felt as though he'd lost several hours...the moon was in a different part of the sky from where it had been before, and it felt like dawn was about to break. The last he remembered, it had been an hour or so past midnight.

"Wormtail! Where are you, Wormtail?" The high cold voice of Lord Voldemort broke into his reverie, and he hurried inside. When he had made his obesiances to the Dark Lord, he stood, waiting to find what his master wanted.

"You look happy, Wormtail," the Dark Lord observed. "If I didn't know it was impossible, I'd think you'd found a woman who'd lower herself enough to let _you_ touch her." Suddenly, Voldemort was all business. "I have decided what we're to do next. Gather the other Death Eaters, Wormy, and I shall inform them of my latest plans."

"What do you see?" asked Harry.

Hermione lolled in an easy chair, her eyes rolled back in her head. In a monotone, she murmured: "I see Voldemort. He's talking to some Death Eaters. I can see Fenrir Greyback, Bellatrix Lestrange, and some others I don't recognize."

"Can you tell us what they're saying?"

"They're planning to attack Azkaban. They want to free Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters there, and kill the Aurors who are guarding the prison."

"Oh, _are_ they now?" Harry smiled. No...he showed his teeth. The rictus twisting his face could not be described as a smile.

"They'll be doing it in a couple of weeks, I think. At least, that's what they're saying where Wormie can hear them. However, we'd best get cracking and prepare a proper welcome for them…shouldn't we?" Hermione's expression was predatory and hungry.

Her two male friends both winked.

The Ministry of Magic was deserted, or nearly so, this late at night. When three bats flew down into an alley near the main entrance and changed into people, there was nobody about to see them except a drunk mumbling in an alley. Nobody'd ever believe him.

Since his father worked there, Ron took command, leading them into the familiar phone box with its memories of their other visits to the Ministry. One trip down later, they were standing in front of the security booth.

"Name and purpose of visit?"

"Ron Bilius."

"Harry Evans."

"Jane Smith. I'm here to do research." Hermione caught the security wizard's eye, and stared deep into his eyes. "_Let us pass_!"

As though he were in a trance, the security wizard produced three badges with their false names on them. Dazedly, he opened the gate and allowed them entry, murmuring "Enter freely and of your own will…mistress, masters." Then he went back to his work as though they weren't even there.

Once the trio were a ways down the corridor, Harry murmured, too low for any but another vampire to hear: "What did you do to him, exactly, Hermione?"

Hermione's smile was not pleasant. "Oh, I took control of his so-called 'mind.' I checked while I was in there, and he's not a Death Eater…but he's simple enough that they could use him. He's about as bright as I imagine Crabbe or Goyle are."

Ron's expression became crafty. "Could you take control of either of Malfoy's goons?"

"Easily, I think. I could even do it without them being aware of it. Wouldn't it be a hoot, if he were fighting for You-Know-Who, and all of a sudden his two tame thugs pulled wands and started blasting Death Eaters…not to mention our dear friend Draco?"

All three of them laughed. The sound was like stones sliding over each other.

After a few minutes, they found the offices they were looking for. The wizard who was on duty was half-asleep, and they had no trouble taking control of him. "It's a bit like the Imperius, isn't it?" Harry commented. "Do you think we might get in trouble for doing this?"

Ron grinned a wolf's grin. "Let 'em try! We're already dead, aren't we? The laws aren't set up with us in mind!"

"Don't be an ass, Ron," snapped Hermione. "We're nearly helpless by day, and Aurors know how to put us out of their misery. Don't get cocky just because you can do some new tricks!"

"Here we are!" Harry held up a set of plans. "The blueprints for Azkaban Prison!"

Hermione, Harry and Ron all bent over the papers. "Now, all we need to do is tip off the warden and guards, on the Q.T….

END Chapter 03


	4. Chapter 4

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 04

by Technomad

The moon shone down coldly, casting a ghastly white light over Azkaban and the surrounding ocean. Powerful Muggle-Repelling Charms had been laid over the island centuries ago; even space satellites didn't see it there off the Scottish coast.

To wizards' eyes, though, it was easily visible, lowering in the ocean like an ominous cloud. The small group of wizards that had gathered in sight of the island were gathered around a tall, stooped figure.

"There it is, Death Eaters," a growling voice proclaimed. "Azkaban Prison. Your comrades...your brothers and sisters...are imprisoned there. Our Lord wishes you to free them."

"In particular," a high-pitched, shaky voice put in, "you are to look for, and free, my husband. Rudolphus has suffered greatly for his allegiance to our Lord, and it is time he was liberated."

"Yes, Mistress," came a subdued chorus.

"And do not forget my brother-in-law, Rabastan...or Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy, in particular, is vitally important to our Lord; his money and connections have eased our work immeasurably."

"We obey, Mistress!" With that, the Death Eaters mounted brooms, soaring into the night toward the prison island.

On Azkaban, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger watched the wizards flying in closer. "They think that the dark will cover them. They don't know we're here, or that we can see in the dark as well as they can in broad daylight, do they?" commented Ron.

"Good job we alerted the prison authorities that the Death Munchers were planning this little raid. Shall we surprise them?" Harry smiled wolfishly.

"If Fenrir Greyback's with them, he's _mine_, remember?" Ron hissed. His eyes glowed red for a second as her face twisted into a feral grin. "He's the one who tore up my brother, Bill, you know."

"Agreed. Greyback's yours. Me, I want Bellatrix." Harry gave them an anticipatory leer. "Come. Let's hide." The trio turned and walked into the deserted prison buildings; the warden had evacuated all prisoners the day before, under conditions of uttermost secrecy.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the first Death Eater to land on Azkaban Island. She leaped off her broom, hissing "I…have _returned_!" Turning, she waved her followers in. "Mulciber, you lead the A squad, Carrow, lead the B squad. The rest of you, follow me!" She charged forward across the shingle, her followers behind her.

At first, she didn't notice anything unusual. She had known that the Dementors were no longer on duty as guards, and some judiciously placed bribes and blackmail had ensured that the wizards that had replaced the Dementors wouldn't be watching this stretch of shore. In a few minutes, she was at the nearest door, opening it with a quick "_Alohomora_!"

Only when she was actually in the prison building did she notice anything wrong. While she had, she believed, ensured the guards' laxity, she knew...none better!...the sounds of a normal Azkaban night, and she wasn't hearing them. The building was as silent as the grave.

"Rabastan? Rudolphus?" she called out, the echoes mockingly casting her words back to her. "It's me...Bella! I'm here to crack you out! We're scarpering!"

Down at the far end of the corridor, something seemed to solidify from the darkness. At first, she thought it was a guard, but when it came closer, her eyes widened as she recognized it.

"Harry? Ickle Harrikins?" she called out mockingly. "What's the matter, ickle Harrikins? Is ums _sad_ that I killed your pwecious Siwius?" Harry came closer still, his face an expressionless mask, and Bella began to worry. "Answer me! Why don't you answer me?"

This goaded Harry to speak for the first time. "I never speak to my food!" That was so unexpected that Bella froze, her blood running cold as Harry smiled at her. Even in the dim light of the corridor, she could see that Harry had changed. His skin, always rather pale, was now alabaster-white, his eyes were red-tinged around the green irises, and his canine teeth were long and needle-sharp.

Pointing her wand, Bella screamed "_Petrificus Totalus_!" The spell was well-aimed, but had absolutely no effect; it splashed off Harry as though he were a statue. Bella's eyes went wider still, and she began to feel real fear. If she couldn't hurt him with spells…

Suddenly, Harry was attacking, moving far faster than she'd have expected. She screamed "_Crucio_!" but even her favorite spell, the one she specialized in, failed her completely; Harry shrugged it off as though she were no more than a Muggle playing at witches-and-wizards. Before she could fire another spell, Harry was grappling with her, his hands as icy-cold as a corpse. He was inhumanly strong, bending her backwards with very little visible effort, despite her terrified struggles.

"As I said...I don't speak to my food!" Bellatrix suddenly realised just what she was fighting against, as Harry cocked his head back, sinking his long fangs into her neck, seeking her jugular vein. A terrible, stabbing pain told her that he had found his goal, and the last thing she heard was a horrible slurping noise.

Rising from Bellatrix Lestrange's drained corpse, Harry felt wonderful...full of vigor, as though he could take on a professional Quidditch team single-handed, or run from Edinburgh to London. He wiped blood from his chin, noting absently that the front of his robes was stained and sticky, and drawing his wand to clean it with a quick _Scourgify_.

Looking around, he was able to track the Death Eaters' movements easily from the sounds he heard; his hearing was incredibly acute compared to what it had been before his transformation. He heard a horribly-familiar growling voice, and from its location, he knew that its owner was about to have a very unpleasant surprise…

Fenrir Greyback slouched through the corridors, wondering dimly what was wrong. He had expected there to be prisoners, or guards, but the prison seemed to be utterly deserted. _Could they have been betrayed? _ No, he decided...the Dark Lord had taken precautions to ensure that only his Death Eaters knew what was going to happen. Even Severus Snape had been kept in the dark; the Potions Master did not seem to be aware of it, but his position with the Death Eaters was not as secure as he seemed to believe. His status, as the murderer of the one wizard Voldemort had feared, gave him more clout than the Dark Lord was comfortable with. Voldemort tolerated no rivals, and acknowledged no equals.

"Fenrir Greyback…" came a voice, a soft whisper that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Come out and play, Fenrir Greyback!"

"Who are you? Who calls me?"

"_Grey_-back…come out and _play-ee-ay_!" A slender, redheaded wizard appeared at the far end of the corridor. On the ends of his fingers, he had three small bottles, which he clinked together rhythmically. _Clink-clink, clink-clink_.

"Do you know who I am?" Greyback started toward this insolent challenger, his hackles rising. "I am Fenrir Greyback, little wizard, and I've bitten more of your kind than I can remember!"

"Oh, I know who and what you are, Fenrir, you filth," the wizard responded, his face twisting in a rictus of hatred. "My name's Ron Weasley...you tore up my brother...prepare to die!"

With a roar of hatred, Fenrir launched himself at this presumptuous little wizardling, who watched him coming without a flicker of fear. Just as Fenrir reached him, the wizard disappeared in a cloud of mist. Before Fenrir could stop himself, he had slammed into the wall of the corridor...and then the wizard was behind him, holding his arms in an incredibly strong grip.

Fenrir shrieked, a high-pitched howl of agony, as Ron Weasley tore his arms loose from their sockets. His sobs and screams echoed off the silent walls of Azkaban, but no help came to him. "Help me! Help me! Oh, Merlin, help me!"

Ron threw him against the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Merlin isn't here, you filth," he hissed. Helplessly, the werewolf lolled against the corridor wall, unable to move his arms due to their dislocation. 'Merlin isn't here...but I _am_!"

Lashing out desperately with his leg, Fenrir knocked his tormentor down, before rolling onto his feet and running down the corridor, frantic to find anybody who'd help him. Before he got far, he was grabbed and dragged down, his enemy's grip far stronger than he'd ever encountered in a wizard.

"I'll bite you!" screamed Fenrir. Most wizards would have backed off at that threat; lycanthropy was something that terrified them, with good reason. Werewolves were almost all social outcasts, unable to hold jobs or marry.

Instead of fear, Ron reacted with cold amusement. He let out a bark of laughter not unlike a wolf's howl, that echoed off the silent stones of Azkaban. "Bite _me_? Little werewolf, you have it all wrong! _I_ won't be bitten, but _you'll _be!"

"What?"

Ron didn't answer, at least not with words. He grabbed Fenrir by the muzzle, heedless of the werewolf's gnashing teeth, and pulled his head back. Fenrir felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his neck, and let out a bestial howl.

Suddenly, he felt himself lifted and thrown against a wall, very hard. Through a haze of agony, he stared with amazement at the red-headed wizard who had proven to be such a dangerous opponent, even without magic.

"Apparently there's something wrong with your blood...it tastes 'off' somehow," hissed Ron. "So I'll have to take care of you the old-fashioned way!" Hurling himself on the terrified werewolf, he growled: "After all, there's nothing wrong with you...I can't fix...with my _hands_!"

Fenrir Greyback screamed so loudly he thought his throat would tear.

Lord Voldemort was worried, although he didn't show it outwardly; his followers had no pity on anyone that showed weakness, and even he didn't dare display anything but serene confidence. Even so, he felt he had a good right to worry. He'd sent a group of his most valuable Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, to liberate the Death Eaters who were still being held at Azkaban. Now it was coming on toward dawn, and there was no sign of them, and no communication. What could have gone wrong?

By noon, everybody was worried; the remaining Death Eaters had had friends and relatives on the Azkaban mission, and none of them had heard anything at all. "What could have happened, my Lord?" asked one.

"I have no idea, Nott. We must await events."

By that evening, the whole wizard world knew what had happened, or at least a version of it. Headlines in the _Daily Prophet _screamed the news of the deaths of every one of the Death Eaters who had been sent to raid Azkaban. Reading the stories, the Dark Lord felt a real _frisson_ of fear.

"How could this have happened?" he hissed. "The Aurors on that island couldn't have stood against them, even without my bribes ensuring that they'd be in the wrong places! Do we have a traitor among us?" His pitiless red eyes lit on Wormtail, who quivered in fear. "You...you turned your cloak once, didn't you?"

"No...my lord, I'm loyal to you!" Wormtail went to his knees. "Look into my mind! You'll see that I'm a loyal Death Eater!"

With that invitation, Voldemort reached out with his Legilimency. He found what he expected to find...that Wormtail was far too frightened of him to even think of betraying him. He ignored the images of a lovely young woman with big dark eyes; he knew that Wormtail had about as much chance of attracting the attention of any such person as he, Voldemort, did of being the Muggle Prime Minister.

Turning from the quivering Wormtail, Voldemort stared out at the setting sun. "Then who...how could they have known?" He resolved to keep a closer eye on his followers.

END Chapter 04


	5. Chapter 5

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 05

by Technomad

In the cellar under 12 Grimmauld Place, three friends stirred from the sleep forced on them by the sunlight. "Pity it isn't winter," remarked Hermione, as she unself-consciously peeled out of her blouse and examined it for dust and dirt.

"Why d'you say that, Hermione?" asked Ron. He slapped at his clothes, knocking the dirt of the cellar off them. "I should owl my mum and have her send me some new clothes."

"You could just go and fetch them...oh." Harry looked rather sheepish, which sat oddly on his sharp, predatory face. "Your mum'd spot differences in you, and you don't want to cast the 'fluence on her or any of your family, do you?"

"Got it in one, mate. Besides, I've the red thirst on me, bad, and I don't know yet if I can trust myself around _anybody_ till I've fed."

"To answer your first question, Ron," Hermione drawled, slipping back into her blouse, "in winter, we'd have hours more of darkness to operate in. This is summer, and at this latitude, that means long, long days and shortish nights."

"Be thankful for small mercies, Hermione," Harry said, as he polished his glasses and put them on. "If we were even as far north as Oslo, this time of year, we'd almost have no night at all. I don't know if they've any_ nosferatu _there, but they'd have a right bad time of it there in summer."

"And make up for it in winter, when there's but a few hours of daylight, and that thin and weak," Hermione said, and left with the last word.

A few hours later, they gathered in the sitting room. They had fed earlier, by the simple expedient of wandering through a dodgy area looking affluent, and luring some alley-bashers into a nice, secluded place. All three of them now looked ruddy and healthy, if not slightly bloated; there had been two or even three alley-bashers apiece, and Hermione had urged them not to leave such people about to prey on those who, unlike them, couldn't fight back.

"So, Hermione. Care to find out what your meat-puppet's doing?" Harry looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione gave her friend a slightly disgusted look. "His mind's like a mud puddle...shallow and dirty. On the good side, he's easy to control, and he never suspects that I'm there." She sat back and her eyes rolled back in her head.

Voldemort was angry…and worried, as well. His best efforts, including forced Legilimency and even extracting magical oaths, hadn't succeeded in finding out _who_ had squealed about the Azkaban mission. Could the Aurors have just taken the prisoners elsewhere, and kept it quiet so that people wouldn't get upset? Little though he liked it, that was the only conclusion that made sense.

His red eyes searched the room. Death Eaters were gathered around…but there was one missing face. "Alecto…where is your brother?"

Alecto Carrow's doughy face went pale, her black-currant eyes scrunching up. "I…I don't know, my Lord. He's not been about at all lately. Did you send him on some sort of mission?"

"The last time I saw him, he said he was going into London. He said he had a new spell, a new killing spell, he wanted to try out. Has he gone on a Muggle-hunting expedition?" Voldemort's voice sunk to a low hiss. "Without _inviting the rest of us_?"

"I'm shocked! _Shocked_! To think that Carrow would do such a thing, and to us, his dearest friends in all the world!" That was Walden Macnair; he combined utter bloodthirstiness to all outsiders with a willingness to suck up that the Dark Lord found endlessly entertaining.

"I wonder…could he have been the one who blabbed?" And Wormtail dared to enter the discussion. Warming to his idea, he continued: "I mean, he had it fairly easy while Our Lord was…_away_… He might have been 'turned,' I think is the term."

"That's a possibility," Voldemort conceded. "Or it could be our dear friend Severus."

"Er, my lord?" Snape spoke up. "To have betrayed your plan, we'd have needed to _know about it_ in enough time to contact the Ministry. None of us knew about it who were out of your sight and hearing until just before 'go-time.'"

"That's true, Severus. Once again, you show that you're as valuable a Death Eater as I have. However, I do wonder what happened to our friend Amycus?" Voldemort sat back, puzzling about it. "Do any of you know of his current haunts in London?"

Several Death Eaters gave addresses, and Voldemort sent Death Eaters to investigate them.

Hermione murmured: "The Death Eaters suspect that Amycus Carrow might have betrayed them. They're checking his known hideouts." She gave her friends a list of locations, and Harry smiled; one of those locations was very close to where they were, in Grimmauld Place.

"He probably was lurking there, hoping to catch us," Ron mused. "Even though the Death Munchers can't get into this place, they do know where it is."

"And now we know where they are, don't we?" Harry's look became very predatory. "Shall we arrange a little surprise for a few of our masked friends?"

All three friends nodded solemnly, eyes dancing with unholy glee.

When the Death Eaters got to Amycus Carrow's little hideaway near Grimmauld Place, all was dark and quiet. They didn't notice three bats hanging from the eaves of the house; the eaves were several stories up and it was a dark, cloudy London night. The street lights did little to relieve the gloom.

Once the Death Eaters were inside, Harry, Ron and Hermione fluttered down, turned into mist, and oozed on inside. The Death Eaters were still utterly unaware of their presence.

"There's dust on things," one of them commented. "Carrow, to give him his due, was a fanatical housekeeper. He wouldn't have let that happen. He hasn't been here in a while."

"Did he leave any notes?"

"Let me see…" A Death Eater began going through Carrow's _escritoire_. "Ah, here we go! He kept a diary!"

"I would have bet he couldn't read or write…" muttered another Death Eater, as they all crowded around to look at the diary. They were so absorbed, reading Carrow's scrawls, that when Harry, Ron and Hermione turned from mist back into human form, nobody noticed.

The first they knew that they were not alone was when Hermione purred: "My, that does look interesting! I love to read…may I see?" They whirled, to find themselves faced with the Dark Lord's worst enemy and his two sidekicks.

"YOU!"

"Yes, 'us,'" Harry said, smiling hungrily. "You were wondering what happened to Carrow?" He proudly pointed to himself and his two friends, who were staring at the Death Eaters like they had been starving for a week and the evil sorcerers were a Christmas feast.

The Death Eaters drew their wands, only to be startled when their curses had little or no effect on the trio. "Oooh, that tickles!" Hermione giggled, when hit with the Cruciatus Curse. "Shall I show you?" She whipped out her own wand and screamed "_Crucio_!" The Death Eater that had cursed her crumpled, screaming like a lost soul.

At this, the Death Eaters began throwing curses and hexes and jinxes, to no avail. After a few minutes, seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione standing there completely unscathed, not even bothering to defend themselves, the evil sorcerers decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and tried to Apparate to safety…to no avail.

Ron gave them a carnivorous grin. "Aw, did you think you could get away?" He shook his head. "You didn't notice us setting up an Anti-Apparition Jinx, did you?" He raised his finger, tut-tutting like a parent facing a naughty child. "You walked right into our trap! 'Come into our parlor, said the spiders to the flies!'"

"It's the _prettiest_ little parlor that ever met your eyes!" Hermione chimed in, her face wrapped in an evil, gleeful smile…she quite resembled Pansy Parkinson at that moment, Harry thought, but knew better than to mention it to his friend. Hermione, he was painfully aware, had a temper-and-a-half on her, and few inhibitions about showing it.

"We don't need wands to take care of trash like you," Harry purred. He reached out and grabbed the nearest Death Eater, who writhed helplessly in his grip…for a second, Harry was reminded of the time he'd seen a feral cat grabbing a baby rabbit. The Death Eater's terrified scream was very like a louder version of the noise the rabbit had made.

The Death Eater's futile attempts to resist brought the red thirst surging up from where it usually slumbered, and before Harry could stop himself, he cocked his head back and sank his fangs into the sorcerer's throat, greedily drinking the rich red essence of life. As the blood filled his stomach, he felt strength surging through him, strength, well-being, and power.

The other Death Eaters had merely stared in horror as Harry battened on their friend, and hardly even resisted as Ron and Hermione followed Harry's lead, going for their throats and tearing them open with razor-sharp fangs to feast on the sorcerers' lifeblood.

There was no reason to hold back, so when Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped, there were three dead, desanguinated Death Eaters at their feet. Harry drew a long, deep breath…he no longer needed to breathe, but it was a habit of long-standing that he found himself falling back into.

Looking at his two friends, he saw that they were bloated and ruddy, with red-tinged eyes. Hermione's eyes were half-closed, and her lips were parted; he could see her nipples sticking out against the front of her shirt. Harry could feel his own arousal.

"Let's get rid of these three, and clean the place up so that it looks as though nobody's been here," Harry whispered. He hated to break the mood, but they had work still to do. Every living Death Eater was a terrible threat, while if they could take Voldemort's followers down without him knowing that there was a systematic plan to eliminate them, they could isolate the Dark Lord and then deal with him at their leisure.

Looking as though they'd been interrupted in the middle of a lovemaking session, Ron and Hermione moved to obey.

END Chapter 05


	6. Chapter 6

The Trio who Returned

Chapter 06

by Technomad

By late that morning, Voldemort was in a towering rage. "What happened to them?" he shouted. Wormtail cowered in a corner, hoping against hope that his master's fury wasn't going to be turned in his direction. "Where did they go?"

Afternoon saw the Dark Lord's attitude change, from anger to real worry. He had sources inside the Ministry of Magic, and elsewhere, and nobody had seen his missing Death Eaters. "How could somebody have taken them down? Nobody knew where they were going, and they were all skilful sorcerers! Could they have all Splinched themselves somehow?"

"I don't know, my Lord. Let's wait a while. They might have been delayed through no fault of their own."

"If they've got a good excuse, I'll let them off the hook. _This _time." Normally, Voldemort was in the habit of punishing even minor defalcations or mistakes with the Cruciatus curse, but he'd noticed that the ranks of the Death Eaters were getting very thin. Even he could understand the necessity of conserving his strength, and not driving Death Eaters into the arms of the law.

OOO

Harry, Ron and Hermione were talking with Snape, who had been invited over to Grimmauld Place. Snape gave them a rather rueful smile. "You know, this place really suits you, the way you are now," he commented.

Hermione lay back, stretching luxuriously. "Yes, I do find that it's more to my taste than the suburban bungalow I grew up in." She snapped her fingers, and Kreacher appeared.

"Yes, mighty mistress?" One advantage to the changes in the Trio was that Kreacher was now a very fine example indeed of what a house elf should be. One or two demonstrations of vampiric powers had convinced him that his new Master and companions were people he very much wanted to serve.

"Bring Professor Snape refreshments." With a bow, Kreacher disappeared, reappearing with a tray laden with goodies. Snape picked out what he wanted, while Hermione, Ron and Harry indicated that they weren't interested.

At Kreacher's disappointed look, Harry explained: "Look, Kreacher, we know you're a fine cook. However, what we now eat isn't within your grasp. It's nothing to do with you. You're a good house-elf." Kreacher gave them all a beaming smile, bowed, and went back to the kitchen.

Tucking into the food, Snape went on: "In any case, the Dark Lord's down to just a few followers. You have done him great harm, and he's at a loss about what to do about it. Without followers, a Dark Lord's just another evil wizard."

Harry nodded. "Yes, and we've learned a lot about him, too. I've wondered if that prophecy about us…you know, 'neither can live if the other survives' still applies? Do I count as alive or as dead?"

Snape raised one eyebrow. "You know, that's a really good question. I hadn't even thought about that. I wish Dumbledore were still around; we could maybe ask him. Trelawney'd be no use at all."

"That's the problem with prophecies," Ron drawled. Normally, on the nights when Snape came by, he stayed well in the background, letting Harry and Hermione take the brunt of conversation; Harry and Hermione had joked that he was still afraid of Snape taking points off him for breathing, being a Weasley, or existing. "They are generally so vague that they're no real use."

"Precisely! Between ourselves, Trelawney's a loon. She can't help it; I think most Seers are slightly crazy at best. But the Dark Lord is nuts for prophecies."

Harry smiled a very carnivorous smile. "You know, it occurs to me…the bastard attacked my family in the first place because he'd heard part of a prophecy. What if we fed him some prophecies and lured him into a trap?"

Snape's eyes went very wide. "Now, that's a wonderful idea! I wonder how we can feed him false prophecies?"

All three vampires looked very smug. "Oh, believe us," Hermione purred, "that'll be the least of our problems."

Harry could see that Snape was puzzled. "We have an…inside route…into Voldemort's ear."

OOO

Voldemort had never thought that the rat had any talent whatsoever for Divination. Seeing Pettigrew stiffen and begin speaking in a deep, penetrating voice startled him.

"The Boy Who Lived lives now in the House of Black…the Boy Who Lived does not expect attack at the House of Black…at midnight, the Boy Who Lived shall fall to the One Who Rules…the Boy Who Lived lives now in the House of Black…" Voldemort's red eyes narrowed.

"Ah, at last you prove that you're worth keeping around, Wormie!" Mockingly, he patted Pettigrew on his head. "I wish I had known before that you had Divination!"

"What does it mean, My Lord? What is 'the House of Black?'" Pettigrew was equally surprised. As a pureblood, he was aware of his family tree, and never before had any of his ancestors shown any hint or inclination that they had Seer powers.

"The House of Black, fool, is either the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, from which my beloved Bellatrix springs, or the building they lived in, in London. From the way your prophecy was worded, I deduce that the Potter brat and his friends are holed up in his godfather's house. Unfortunately, that place has a Fidelius charm on it, and I have no way to get there."

"However, there are other ways." Voldemort snapped his fingers.

Severus Snape came in and bowed low. "How may I serve you, master?"

"Take me to the House of Black. I know that you know where it is, because you were spying on the whole accursed Order of the Phoenix for me, and you would have to know."

"By your command. Will you permit me to Side-Along Apparate you there?"

"Yes. This once! Normally, I would scorn such a technique, but you can get there while I cannot."

OOO

When the Dark Lord and his servants appeared in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place, it was wrapped in shadows. Voldemort and Snape raised their wands, murmuring "Lumos," to try to see what was around them. Even with two wands' worth of light, there was not enough to penetrate to the far walls.

"Very well, Severus. Let us see where they are." Voldemort stepped forward, only to stop in his tracks at a low, evil chuckle. It seemed to come from all around him.

"Who's there? Show yourself! I am the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and I command you to show your face!" Voldemort shouted. More malign laughter answered him.

"Very well, since you insist," a woman's voice purred. Coalescing out of the shadows, a young woman with bushy brown hair, thick black eyebrows and bottomless black eyes seemed to appear from nowhere. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Enter freely, and of your own will!" She gave them a very carnivorous smile.

"Show me where Harry Potter is! And I am _Lord Voldemort_! You will treat me with the respect I deserve!" screamed Voldemort. The Dark Lord's nerves were badly on edge. He was used to cringing subservience, outright hatred, or cowering fear whenever he chose to show his face. Mockery enraged him, but it unnerved him, too.

"Oh?" The woman's thick eyebrows rose, in a comical expression of puzzlement. "And _why_ should I call someone a 'Lord' when he has _no followers_?" Voldemort whirled, to find himself staring down Severus Snape's wand.

"Snape! You traitor! How dare you betray me?"

"I turned against you, _my Lord,_ when you chose to target Lily Evans! She was my first friend, although I lost her friendship through my own asininity. I swore to protect Harry Potter, and I have done so!" Snape sneered, looking at his former master as though Voldemort was something smelly he'd stepped in on the street.

Voldemort turned to Peter Pettigrew, who was staring at the young woman with an expression of mindless bliss. "Wormtail! Back to back! We can fight our way out of here!"

The young woman made a satiric moue. "Oh, Peter, _darling_, you don't want to _hurt_ me, do you?" Shaking his head as though in a trance, Pettigrew dropped his wand and moved over to her, where she patted him on the head.

"The anti-apparition wards are up, and you cannot flee, Tom," remarked a tall, lanky redheaded man who came ambling down the stairs. At first, Voldemort was inclined to dismiss him as a total tosswit, but then he saw something in the man's eyes…something predatory, something eternally hungry. He realized that it was the same thing that he'd seen in the young woman's eyes. "But you came here to see Harry Potter, didn't you?"

A familiar voice from behind him made Voldemort's foul blood freeze in his veins. "Well, turn around, Tom, and gaze your fill!" Voldemort stared and stared at his fated enemy. Harry was standing where Voldemort would have sworn nothing had been a few minutes ago, smiling at him.

Not for nothing was Voldemort considered one of the greatest wizards of all time. His wand was in his hand in an instant, as he screamed "_Avada Kedavra_!" The familiar green light of the Killing Curse arced out…and splashed harmlessly off Harry Potter. He tried it again, on Potter's two companions, and was utterly shocked to see that it worked no better on them.

"Oh, foolish, foolish Tom," Harry purred. "The _Avada Kedavra_ is the _Killing _Curse…and it can't work on us, because we're already dead!"

"Death comes once to a customer, Tom, and your Death Eaters already killed us! Too bad it didn't take!" The redhead smirked triumphantly. Before Voldemort knew it, his wand hand was gripped in icy-cold fingers, and he felt his finger bones snapping as his wand was pried from his grasp with brutal force.

"Pettigrew! _Help me_! I, your Lord, command it!" Voldemort's red eyes opened wide with horror as he saw what was happening to Peter Pettigrew. He was standing there, slack-faced, his eyes rolled back in his head, as the young woman battened on his jugular vein. The Dark Lord could see blood dribbling down Pettigrew's robe front from where the young woman's lips were locked on his throat.

Then Voldemort felt himself being grabbed by the neck, in an inhumanly strong grip. The last thing he saw before darkness descended was Harry Potter, with impossibly elongated canine teeth, leaning toward him.

END Chapter 06


	7. Chapter 7

The Trio Who Returned, Chapter 07

by Technomad

When Voldemort came back to consciousness, it was to feel bursts of horrible, racking pain through his entire body, again and again. A young woman, standing a little way away, pointed a wand, screaming "_Crucio_" over and over. He shrieked, not understanding why this was happening to him.

A tall, redheaded young man came up. "Had enough, Hermione? Want me to have a go at him?"

The woman…Hermione…stood back. "I think I've softened him up enough. Get Harry down here, and we can find out where those damned Horcruxes are."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, let me have a hack at him…" the man pleaded. "I owe this bastard for my uncles!"

"Very well, but no spells." Hermione smiled voluptuously and handed the redheaded man a knife. "He won't need all those dangly extremities, now will he, darling?" She turned to go, calling "Have fun and play safe, boys!" over her shoulder.

By now, Voldemort had realized that he was tied up, standing, with his hands tied to a cross-beam. "Who are you? Why are you doing these things to me?" he whimpered.

"My name is Ron," the redheaded man purred. He smiled, showing long, razor-sharp canine teeth, and Voldemort shuddered. He came up close, whispering, and Voldemort nearly gagged at the graveyard stink of his breath. "As for why we're doing it…cast your mind back! We _Obliviated_ you of all knowledge of how to do magic, even…especially…wandless magic, so you can't escape or fight back, but we left your other memories intact! Why do you think we're doing these things?"

Reminded, Voldemort thought back. He saw himself, the leader of a group of powerful wizards, spreading terror across Britain, reaching for power…only to be foiled when a spell went dreadfully wrong. He saw what he had done, before that setback and afterward, and knew why he was where he was. "Oh, Merlin! Have mercy on me! At least call the Aurors! Don't I have a right to a trial?"

"A trial?" Ron stood back slightly, cocking his eyebrow and tilting his head to one side, studying Voldemort as though the prisoner was some new sort of bug he had caught. "_What_ sort of 'trials' did you _ever _give your prisoners? What happened to _Charity Burbage_?"

Voldemort remembered…and shuddered. Ron leaned close again, the charnel stink of his breath making Voldemort nearly retch, empty stomach or no. "Charity Burbage was my father's cousin, scum. Dad took the news about her really badly. So-o-o, I think a little payback is in order here!" With strength far beyond what Voldemort would have believed him to have, he bent down and yanked one of Voldemort's bare feet up to waist height, looking at it thoughtfully. "You seem to have the same number of toes as other people. Let's play a game, shall we?" Giving the terrified Voldemort a big, happy smile, his fangs flashing, Ron produced a big pair of bolt cutters, fastening them around Voldemort's littlest toe. "_This_ little piggy went to market…"

Voldemort's screams should have torn his throat flesh loose.

OOO

After an unguessable time, Voldemort found himself fully conscious. In front of him, Harry Potter was standing. "Thanks, Hermione. That _Ennervate_ spell was just what the Healer ordered to bring our friend, here, back to the world of the waking." Pain lanced through every inch of Voldemort's body, and he couldn't believe that he was even as functional as he was.

"Why…why don't you just kill me, Potter?" he mumbled. "Go on! Get it over with!"

Harry Potter smiled cruelly. "Oh, but we can't! You made that impossible, yourself, with those damned Horcruxes! We have to destroy those first!"

"And besides," purred Hermione, running her hand up and down Voldemort's chest with mocking sensuality, "we wouldn't miss this for the salvation of mankind!" She ran her tongue over her lips. Voldemort shuddered at the look in her eyes. She reminded him of his dear Bella, when she was about to unleash her favorite curse on someone who had displeased her. "I haven't had this much fun since ever!"

"Playtime after, Hermione," Harry said sternly. "Business first." Harry leaned forward, the open-grave smell of his breath overwhelming. "Look into my eyes!" Voldemort locked gazes with Harry, noting in passing that the Boy-who-Lived's green eyes were now red-rimmed…and found his will being sucked out of him, almost like an Imperius Curse. "Tell me what the Horcruxes are, and where they are! I know you know!"

Without volition on his part, Voldemort mumbled: "The first one I made was from my old school diary…I powered it with the death of that girl who my basilisk killed…"

"Yes, we know about that one. It's been destroyed. What next?"

"The second one was the ring I took from my uncle before I murdered him…"

"We know about that one, too. Get on with it!" Harry's fingers suddenly extruded wickedly sharp claws, and he raked the helpless Voldemort's chest deeply. As the blood started spilling out, Harry's eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, and his friends leaned closer, licking their lips.

OOO

When they had extracted everything Voldemort knew about his Horcruxes, Harry commanded Voldemort to sleep until summoned. It was getting close to day.

"Very well. Three of them, the ring, the diary, and me, are dealt with. I haven't felt any connection with that bastard since we changed. That leaves three. The cup, the diadem, and that stupid locket. Doesn't that sound like that one locket we found here when we were cleaning this place up, back in fifth year?" Harry looked thoughtful. "Come to it, I think Kreacher took that one! Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared, bowing low. "What does mighty master want of poor Kreacher?"

"Do you remember an ornate silver locket? We found it while cleaning, and we thought to throw it out, but it disappeared. Do you have it, by any chance?"

Kreacher crumpled, sobbing. "Oh, master, forgive poor Kreacher!" He wailed, with tears dripping down his face, "Kreacher was here when the bad wizard Mundungus came! Kreacher tried to stop him, but he took so many things that belong to the House of Black! He took the locket, Master, despite all poor Kreacher could do!"

Ron smiled. "Kreacher! Can you find Mundungus Fletcher, and drag him back here?" Kreacher's answering smile looked as predatory as Ron's.

"Kreacher can go and do that!" He looked as though he was ready to leave, when Harry held up a hand.

"You know that we aren't able to operate during the day, Kreacher. If you bring him back here by day, make very, very sure that he can't get away, but that he's in a shape to answer all our questions. There's many things we need to know." Kreacher nodded eagerly, and disappeared.

"Dawn _is_ almost on us," Hermione commented. "It's been a long, enjoyable night, boys, and I, for one, am absolutely knackered. What say we head for some rest?"

"Sounds like a winner, Hermione," Harry said. Then he grinned, and for a second, the "old" Harry Potter showed through. "I must say, though, I never thought to hear you inviting two boys to bed!"

All three friends shared a good, long laugh. Hermione laughed the loudest. "Oh, if my old roomies could see me! They always thought I was miles behind them on the 'boys' front!"

They headed for the basements. Passing the unconscious Voldemort, they approached three ornate coffins. Ron remarked: "What do you think it says about the Blacks, that we found a whole bunch of coffins down here, all ready to go?"

"Nothing good, of course," Harry answered. "But they're comfy and serve our purpose. See you after sunset!" Harry lay down in the fanciest coffin, shutting the lid over himself, and Ron and Hermione did likewise; Hermione's coffin had many "feminine" accoutrements, and had clearly been originally meant for a woman.

When the sun rose over Britain, the three friends fell into their usual comas, to awaken only when night returned.

END Chapter 07

_(Author's note: This is not the way the "old" Harry, Ron and Hermione would have behaved, even when dealing with Voldemort. However, there have been some significant changes in them.** Vampires. Are. ****Evil****.** They're on the "right side" more through circumstance than anything else, now; Voldemort would give them no peace if they just went off and did their thing. They also have various things they want to pay him back for, and now they have no inhibitions about how it's to be done. However, make no mistake: They are as evil as any Death Eater, and find fighting evil with evil fatally easy and seductive.)_


	8. Chapter 8

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 08

by Technomad

As evening fell, life returned to the Trio. Once the sun was below the horizon, Harry, Ron and Hermione stirred, opening their coffins and sitting up. Harry grinned at Hermione ruefully. "I feel like I'm acting in a horror movie." Both friends laughed at the thought. "At least I'm not speaking in some sort of cheesy East European accent!"

"Did you notice that I used a line from _Dracula_?" Hermione raised one of her thick dark eyebrows in a questioning expression. "I thought it was quite appropriate."

"So did I. Trust you, Hermione, to come up with a good quote." At Ron's puzzled look, Harry explained: "When Lord Thingy came here, she said 'enter freely, and of your own will.' That's a famous line from the original novel, _Dracula_, and gets used in a lot of the movie versions."

"I'd have said 'come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly,' but I suppose you know best," Ron commented. He stood up, stepping out of his coffin. Shutting it, he remarked: "After we see to our guest, I want to feed. The red thirst is on me."

"It's on all of us, Ron," said Harry, exiting his coffin and closing it. He looked at it thoughtfully. "You know, it occurs to me that we're among the few who not only go _into_ a coffin, but come out of it again!"

All three of them laughed at that thought.

Lord Voldemort hung in his bonds, his face slack and his mouth open. A string of drool hung from his lips, nearly reaching the floor. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "He's forgotten that he's toilet-trained, hasn't he?" she said, drawing her wand and cleaning the mess that Voldemort had made when he'd lost control of his bowels and bladder.

"I wish his Death Eaters could see him now!" Ron gloated. "They'd never take him seriously again!"

"Who's left among the Death Eaters, anyway?" Harry looked thoughtful. "Wormtail's right over here…" he absently aimed a kick at the inert form of the former Marauder…"and most of the others are dead, aren't they?"

Harry stared into Voldemort's red, unfocussed eyes. "Near as I can tell from the mess we made of this one's mind, about the only ones left are the Malfoys. They don't dare go near Malfoy Manor, though. They're holed up at the old Riddle House. Vol-au-vent here," he gave Voldemort a mocking chuck under the chin, "used it as a headquarters."

"Stupid of him," Ron sneered. "In his shoes, I'd have found someplace that no Death Eaters had ever been associated with. But then, he always was stupid. And overconfident."

"Let's take care of that red thirst," Hermione headed for the door, effectively ending the conversation. "Then let's go Horcrux hunting."

OOO

Wearing skimpy, provocative clothing, Hermione Granger staggered along toward a dark park. Grimmauld Place, luckily for the Trio, stood in a dodgy part of London, which made hunting a great deal easier.

Earlier, Hermione had bought a couple of small bottles of cheap whiskey, and splashed them on herself. Now, she looked for all the world like a silly slapper who'd had too much to drink, easy bait for any would-be rapists in the vicinity. And, sure enough, a small group of young men were following her, closely enough to not lose sight of her, but not so close that she would be suspicious if she turned and happened to catch sight of them.

Finally, Hermione stumbled into the park, sitting down on a bench a little way inside. "Got to sit down for a few minutes. Got to clear my head," she mumbled. "Dear God, how much did I drink?"

A few minutes later, she was surrounded. "Well, well, what have we here?" asked the leader of the young men. "My, you're a pretty one. Care to come with me and me pals for a little fun?"

Hermione stared at them woozily. "No…no. Just need to clear my head. Drinking contest at that party I was at…" The young men grinned and grabbed her by the arms, hauling her to her feet. Hermione shrieked. "Let go of me! Let me go!"

"Oh, no," one of them laughed. "We've got you and we're going to have some fun with you!" Suddenly he felt himself gripped in his turn, with an inhumanly strong, cold grasp, and whirled around to face an angry, chalky-white face with red-rimmed green eyes under a shock of messy black hair. His companions were in a similar fix; one of them was being held by the woman they'd found, who suddenly didn't seem drunk at all, or attractive at all, while the other was having his arms twisted up behind his back by a very pale-looking, red-eyed redhead.

OOO

When they were done, the Trio hid their latest victims' corpses in a deep thicket. The park looked like it didn't see a lot of traffic, and there was a good chance that they wouldn't be found for a while. They looked at each other, their formerly pale, drawn faces now ruddy and full of life.

"I've got to say, this does have some advantages," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Killing would-be rapists, and Death Eaters, I mean. It makes me feel better about what we've become."

"Any of those scum could have victimised Ginny, if she hadn't been born with magic," Ron growled, low in his throat. He had been particularly rough with his victim, and the man's head now lolled on a neck that mainly consisted of his spinal cord. Ron had torn and ripped most of the flesh off his neck.

"You think of your sister when we do that sort of thing?" Harry asked, curiously. "I remember some of the things Snape told us, about where he grew up on the wrong side of my mum's home town. He saw things that no child should ever see."

"Well, it's neither here nor there, people. Come on! We've Horcruxes to hunt!" And with that, the Trio Disapparated.

OOO

The Riddle House in Little Hangleton looked deserted, at least to Muggle eyes. The few remaining inhabitants were careful not to show lights at night. However, Harry, Ron and Hermione could sense the people within, like smelling delicious food while walking past a restaurant.

Entry was no problem for them. They had managed to extort permission from Voldemort, who was the legal owner of the domicile, so they could go and come as they pleased. If Voldemort regained enough of his wits to remember what they had done, and withdraw his invitation, they'd have to leave quickly, but they thought there was little chance of that.

Silent as shadows, they began searching. Hermione hissed when they opened one door. Harry and Ron came to see what she had come across.

Sleeping in a big four-poster bed, side-by-side, were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Harry's eyes went wide when he began to consider the possibilities. Casting the 'fluence to make sure the couple would not awaken, the Trio slipped on in and stood around the bed, like three angels of death.

Hermione held up a restraining hand, and took an unresisting Narcissa's hand. Pulling it out, she pulled the sleeve of her nightgown back, and all three vampires' eyes widened at the sight of the Dark Mark, ugly and black against the creamy skin.

"Where these two idiots are, that wanker they spawned isn't likely to be too far away," Ron whispered, although they could have spoken normally and the Malfoys would not have awakened from their enforced slumber. They knew that Nagini could be anywhere, though, and none of them would be happy until the giant snake was dead.

"Let's try across the hall," Harry murmured, too low for anybody not right there to hear. The three glided out and across the hall, and began opening doors softly. Sure enough, in the third room they tried, Draco Malfoy was asleep. Beside him was Nagini, who was wide awake. At their entrance, the snake uncoiled, moving to the attack with a hiss like a mortally-wounded steam engine.

Nagini clearly thought that she had nothing but ordinary humans, possibly magical, but still ordinary in other ways, to deal with. Even on a snake, her surprise when Harry stepped forward, gripping her by the throat and whirling her around like a meteor hammer. Her hiss became clearly a distress noise, and Harry hissed back in Parseltongue. When Harry stopped spinning her, Nagini had clearly lost all stomach for the fight, but her attempts to get away did her no good, as Harry gripped her neck with both hands and twisted her head clean off.

With the snake dead, and the Horcrux within it neutralised, the Trio turned their attention to Draco. They all owed the blond pureblood payback in various forms…Hermione's eyes suddenly lit with a red, predatory gleam, and she turned to her friends with a carnivorous smile. "I've just had the most wonderful idea!"

OOO

Around noon of that day, Auror Tonks and several of her colleagues cautiously entered the big Victorian mansion just outside Little Hangleton. They'd been sent there by Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had received an anonymous note saying that it was a place they'd find very interesting indeed.

Within a very few minutes, they had clear evidence that this place had been a hive of Death Eater activity. Death Eater masks and robes, manuals of the Dark Arts, lists of those to be targeted by the Death Eaters, lists of Death Eater sympathisers who had not come forward openly…all of those would alone have made the raid one of the more rewarding ones the Aurors had gone on since the return of the Dark Lord. But what they found in an upstairs bedroom was the _piece de resistance_.

The horrified Aurors found themselves gazing on a scene of slaughter. Side by side, the unclothed, dead bodies of Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy hung by their heels from the ceiling. Their throats had been torn open, and not a drop of blood remained in their bodies. At first, the sight of the dead family riveted the Aurors' eyes, but as they got used to it, they started noticing other things.

Below them was the body of a huge snake, a poisonous serpent much larger than any found in nature, with its head torn from its body. It had been arranged in a figure-eight, obviously by whoever had killed it.

And, the Aurors finally noticed, although the Malfoys and the snake had been drained of blood, not a drop of blood was to be found, anywhere.

END Chapter 08


	9. Chapter 9

The Trio Who Returned, Chapter 09

by Technomad

When Harry awoke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Kreacher had succeeded. Mundungus Fletcher was tied to one of the pillars of the basement, very unhappy and very vocal about it. He was even less happy when he saw the Trio's coffins opening, and them rising up, gaunt, pale and red-eyed.

"Oh, Merlin! You're…you're vampires! You're going to drink me blood!" Terrified, Fletcher began thrashing, trying to get free of the ropes Kreacher had apparently conjured up to hold him. "Help! HELP ME! HELP! I was kidnapped by a mad house-elf an' given to vampires! Help me, anybody! Please!"

Harry smiled, and his two friends smiled as well. For some strange reason, probably the fangs they were showing, Mundungus found that less than reassuring. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fainted dead away. Harry's nose told him that the thief's bladder had cut loose.

"Clean that up, Kreacher," Harry ordered, pointing his finger. Kreacher nodded; he hadn't taken his eyes off Fletcher since he had brought the unconscious wizard in and bound him with magical ropes. A snap of Kreacher's fingers, and Mundungus Fletcher was cleaner than he'd been in a long time. Harry leaned down and twisted Fletcher's earlobe, and Fletcher came back to consciousness, clearly wishing he hadn't.

"What do yer want wiv me?" Fletcher whined, in an agony of fear. "Ain't yer goin' to drink me blood?"

"No, Fletcher," purred Hermione. She smiled mockingly at the terrified thief. "We have _standards_, after all." She laughed, a sound like icy goblets shattering. "Rapists, muggers…but not you. No self-respecting _nosferatu_ would want you!"

"We wouldn't want to taste your blood," sneered Ron. "It might make us sick. You wouldn't want that, would you, now?" From Fletcher's expression, he would…but he looked at all three of them, and made the wisest decision he had made in a long time by keeping his lips zipped.

"We just want to know what happened to something Kreacher said you took from this house," Harry explained. He squatted down, staring into the terrified Mundungus' eyes, exerting his hypnotic powers to calm the man down enough to talk. "We're looking for an ornate silver locket, with the letter 'S' on it. Show him the drawing you made, Kreacher!"

Mundungus Fletcher looked carefully at Kreacher's picture. "Yeah. Yeah, I took this. Didn't think you lot wanted it! You tried throwin' it out, but that barmy house-elf nicked it an' I took it from him! Didn't mean any harm…"

Harry reached out and took Mundungus by the ear. "Listen, you sticky-fingered little wretch, and listen real good, because I'm only going to say this once! Don't ever 'nick' anything from this house again, as long as you live? Do we understand each other?" Mundungus stared at Harry, petrified by fear. Harry slapped him hard across the head. "I said, _do we understand each other?"_

_ "Yes!"_

"I can't hear you…" Harry carolled.

_"YES!"_

"You _forgot_ something…"

_"YES __**SIR**__!"_

"That's better!" Harry beamed approval, like a proud teacher who had just got the class numbskull to understand a simple concept. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No sir!"

"Now, about this locket. You say you did take it. Where did you put it? Did you sell it, and if so, to whom?"

"Didn't sell it! Didn't get a chance, did I?" Tears and snot dribbled down Mundungus' face. "Never got a chance to profit off all me hard work, did I?"

"Aww, poor baby," Hermione purred, producing a hanky to wipe Mundungus' goo off him. "Kind of sucks, being a hardworking thief! Nobody ever lets you have a little dishonest gain!"

"Nasty old Aurors, people like us…if I didn't know better, I'd think you'd do better getting an honest job and going straight!" Ron said mockingly. "But, back to our point: _What happened to that damned locket?"_

"She took it! She said she was goin' to run me in for sellin' magical trinkets without a license, but she'd just take that locket and call it square!" Mundungus looked around at the trio, anger and indignation overriding his terror. "What's the bleedin' point of bein' honest, when respectable Ministry officials goes around takin' bribes an' shakin' folks down?"

"Which official was this? This is important to us! You want to get rid of the Dark Lord, don't you?" At the mention of the Dark Lord, Mundungus' eyes went wide as saucers. "We need this thing to help us get rid of the Dark Lord!"

"That bastard! Why weren't you sayin' so the first place?" Mundungus swelled with indignation. "It was that fat little woman in pink from the Ministry! The one with the kitten fetish!"

"You mean…_Dolores Umbridge_?" Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, hardly daring to believe their luck.

"You know 'er, then?"

"Oh, do we ever! I could just _kiss_ you!" For some reason, Hermione's exclamation didn't seem to reassure their captive thief. His eyes rolled up and he fainted again."

OOO

Some time later, after a refreshing snack (some alley-bashers had thought that Ron, "reeling drunk," was an easy target; they'd never make that mistake again, or any other) the Trio forgathered in the main parlour of Grimmauld Place to figure out how to get at Dolores Umbridge.

"She doesn't go to work at night," Ron said. He was their ranking expert on the Ministry and its workings, from years listening to his dad talk about his job. "Almost nobody does. Even the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries shut down tight after sundown."

"So just waiting for her in her office is right out," mused Hermione. "Having her find us in there, unconscious and helpless, is not the way we want to go."

"True, that." All three vampires looked rueful. For the most part, their new status was an unmixed advantage…but it did have its drawbacks. So far, they had played to their strengths. Luckily, wizards were an irreligious lot, so nobody had tried fending them off with holy objects. And British cooking, equally luckily for them, did not run to garlic, to put it very mildly. But sunlight was a deadly peril no matter what.

"We need to lure her somewhere." Hermione muttered, looking abstracted, as she usually did when she was deep in thought. "Someplace where she's isolated, and would come at night."

"We need to find out more about her habits," Harry concluded. "And I know just who we can put on the job, don't I just?" All three friends smiled evilly.

OOO

When they released him and spoke to him about it, Mundungus Fletcher expressed pathetic eagerness to help. "Anything I can do, guv'nor! Anything! I promise it! You can trust me!"

The three friends looked at each other, rolling their eyes, before Hermione stepped forward, fixing Mundungus with her hypnotic stare. "Just to make sure, Dung," she purred, as she leaned down and fastened her teeth in his neck. When she stepped back, there were two little rivulets of blood running down each side of her chin, and Mundungus Fletcher was staring at her with outright worship in his eyes.

"You'll tell your Hermione everything, won't you, Dungy?"

"Oh, yes, mistress, everything! May I go now?" When she nodded regally, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

"This is marginally better than dealing with that can of worms that Wormtail used for a mind," Hermione remarked, "but not by much." The three went back downstairs, since daylight was coming on. As they walked by, they noticed that Kreacher was giving Lord Voldemort some water, and that he had been cleaned up some. The _soi-disant_ Dark Lord hung in his bonds, his eyes glazed over.

"Keep him alive, Kreacher," Harry directed. "Eventually, I want him to die, but he has to suffer a lot more, first." Harry smiled at the thought. "He's got a lot of paying back to do, doesn't he, just?"

"Oh, yes, mighty master!" Kreacher gave Harry a beaming smile. "He hurt poor Kreacher, and drove Master Regulus to his death! Poor Master Regulus had Kreacher take him out to the nasty island in the cave, and when Regulus had drunk all the potion, he took the locket, gave it to Kreacher, and told Kreacher to destroy it!" The elf's face twisted with remembered pain and grief, and he began to sob. "Kreacher failed, Kreacher tried, but poor Kreacher could not figure out how to destroy that locket! And poor Mistress, never knowing where her boy had gone…"

The Trio looked at each other, slightly rueful expressions on their faces. "There's times when I think I've gone completely evil," Hermione muttered, "but then I find out new things about Voldemort, and I realise that even if I am evil, there are things I could never do. I'd never, never abuse a loyal elf the way he did!"

"We may be evil," Harry said, "but sometimes you have to fight fire with fire, and set a thief to catch a thief. Compared with what Voldemort did, and what he would have done, and would still do if he somehow won free and got his mind back, we're fairly harmless."

Ron looked up at the cellar's windows. Off in the east, the sky was visibly light. "Dawn's coming, friends. Let's head for our slumbers, and worry about whether we're evil or not later. There'll be time for abstract philosophy after we destroy the last Horcrux and put Him out of our misery."

None of them could argue with that, and they all headed for their coffins.

END Chapter 09


	10. Chapter 10

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 10

by Technomad

For several hours, the three friends brainstormed. They considered, and rejected, several plans for getting at Dolores Umbridge.

"Trouble is, my friends, that although we're hell-on-wheels in fights, a mass attack by wizards could still take us out," Hermione mused. "We've only so much magical firepower, and like it or not, darling Dolores is still a member of the government. She could yell for the Aurors if we accosted her someplace public."

"Then we'll have to find out a way to get at her in private," Harry answered.

"Yes, but how?" Ron asked. "She's not one to go out of evenings. She's pretty much a homebody. Face it, with that face and figure, does she have any choice in the matter?" He shuddered theatrically. "Even without that personality…I could make a picture of her, and call it 'Chastity Made Simple!'" Hermione scowled at her friend, and Ron grinned a fanged grin at her.

"Now, now, Ron, don't be cruel," Hermione scolded, but her heart wasn't in it. "So, we've got to figure a way into her house. We need an invitation. We can't just go on in. And since we don't have any knowledge of her having any housemates, we're between one rather large rock and one rather hard hard place, at least vis-à-vis her."

"Housemates, she doesn't have," mused Ron. "But what of servants? Does she have any of those? House-elves or the like?"

"You're a genius, Ron!" Hermione grabbed a surprised Ron and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Kreacher! Come in here, please!"

Kreacher appeared, bowing low. "What does mighty masters and mistress want with poor Kreacher? How can Kreacher serve mighty masters and mistress?"

"By sharing your knowledge. Do you know if Dolores Umbridge has a house-elf, or more than one?" Hermione leaned down, smiling as reassuringly as she could. Nobody sane would have been reassured, but Kreacher beamed at her.

"Oh, mighty mistress! Kreacher does not know this, but Kreacher will go and find out! We house elves can go and come as we please, since that makes us more useful servants!

"You might have trouble. Can you go find Dobby, and ask him if he'll come along?"

At the mention of his name by the wizard he idolized, Dobby himself appeared. "Dobby is here! Dobby is happy to help Harry Potter Sir and his friends!" Then his eyes fell on Kreacher. "What is bad nasty elf doing here?" Kreacher whirled to confront his rival, and for a second, it looked like a fight would break out.

"None of _that_ now!" Harry snapped. Both elves snapped to attention involuntarily. "Dobby, Kreacher's now a _good_ house elf. Kreacher, Dobby's a good friend of mine and I expect you to treat him as such. We need you to go to Dolores Umbridge's house without letting her know you're there, and let us know if there are any house-elves there."

"Don't let the elves know why you're there, either," Ron put in. "What they know they'll tell to Dolores, and we don't want her to know anything's in the wind till it's too late."

"Oh, yes, we go! We shall report back in tomorrow evening, after Masters and Mistress are awake!" With that, Kreacher Disapparated, and Dobby followed him a second later.

000

The next evening, when the Trio rose from their deathly daylight slumber, they found Kreacher and Dobby waiting for them.

"Bad Toad Lady has a house elf, Master," Kreacher reported.

"But Bunky would not talk to us. Bad Toad Lady would hit him with a pain spell if he told us anything, Master Harry Potter Sir. Dobby is sorry."

"Hang on," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing and going reddish. "You say that Dolores Umbridge, or Bad Toad Lady, _Cruciates_ her house-elf?" As Dobby and Kreacher nodded, Hermione hissed in rage. "That. Utter. _Scum!_"

Harry flexed his fingers, wishing they were around Umbridge's fat throat. "When we catch her, people, let's take our time. Anybody who'd abuse a helpless house-elf deserves the worst we can do."

Ron looked thoughtful. "Would it be possible for Bunky to let us in through the Floo, particularly if he didn't know we were…what we are?" All three vampires nodded. They knew that even a badly-treated house-elf, if not liberated like Dobby, would do his or her utmost to defend the Master or Mistress…and none of them really wanted to know just how powerful house-elves were.

Harry had been the only one to see Dobby facing down Lucius Malfoy, but he had told his friends about it gleefully. Lucius Malfoy had been a powerful wizard in his own right, and it told them a lot that he had been backed down by his own ex-elf.

"Yes, he could do that. Or we could go there after Bad Toad Lady is asleep, and start the fire ourselves," Kreacher smiled evilly. "Can poor Kreacher…and Dobby…come to see what mighty masters and mistress do to Bad Toad Lady?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea! The two of you can handle Bunky, while we take care of Bad Toad Lady!"

"So how does this sound? Kreacher and Dobby, you two go to Bad Toad Lady's house tomorrow after we're up, and overpower Bunky without alerting Bad Toad Lady or letting her know anything's wrong. I take it that the two of you are more than a match for him?" Harry leaned down, bringing his face close to the elves' own faces.

"Oh, yes, mighty master! Kreacher and Dobby between them can take down any elf we've ever met!"

"Good. Overpower Bunky, start the Floo, and make him look into it. We'll be able to take things from there. And, as I've said, for pity's sake be quiet about it! We don't want Bad Toad Lady to give the alarm or be able to escape!"

The elves nodded, bowed and Disapparated, and the Trio stood up and stretched.

"These restrictions on us are kind of tiresome," Ron drawled.

"It's part of the price we pay for our powers. Personally, I kind of miss being able to walk in daylight," Harry answered. "Not to mention, Hedwig." Sadness passed across his face. After their first night in their new guises, Hedwig, Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks had disappeared, and Harry knew that they wouldn't ever be back. Animals of almost all sorts now hated and feared them.

"I know what you mean. I'd love to be able to cuddle Crookshanks again," Hermione said. She put her arms around her friends' necks, and for a few seconds, they luxuriated in at least having each other.

"Well, tomorrow comes soon. In the meantime, what say we go slake our red thirst?" Harry got up and went to the door, and his friends followed him.

000

The next evening, they made sure to feed before setting their plan into motion. The fireplace was lit, and Harry threw some of the house's supply of Floo powder in. "Umbridge House!"

A strange house-elf's face appeared in the flames. "Bunky is sorry, master, but Mistress is asleep." Staring into the elf's eyes, Harry exerted every ounce of his hypnotic power, willing the elf to become his slave.

"Let us in, Bunky," Harry murmured. "Let us in!"

For a few seconds, there was a battle of wills, invisible to all onlookers, before Bunky's eyes went glazed. "Enter freely, Masters and Mistress!" Harry stepped into the Floo, and after the usual whirling journey, found himself stepping out into a frilly, overdecorated sitting room. He recognized many of the painted plates on the walls from Umbridge's tenure at Hogwarts. The cats and kittens in those plates took one look at him and shrank in horror, hissing and yowling their terror. Behind him, Ron and Hermione came through.

Roused by the uproar, Dolores Umbridge came into the room, dressed for bed. "Who are you and what are you doing in my home? Don't you know that I'm a Ministry official, and a high-ranking one at that?" Then she saw who it was, and her eyes went wide. "You!"

"Yes, 'us,' Umbitch! Time for you to pay for what you did!"

"What I did? I did nothing but what was mandated by the Ministry, you lying little brat! You're worse than I had thought you were…breaking into a woman's home!" Umbridge leveled her wand. "I'm calling the Aurors!"

"Go ahead, Umbitch," purred Hermione, her eyes blazing with rage. "Try calling the Aurors! We can handle them!"

"Shut up and hold still, Umbridge," snapped Harry. He bent his hypnotic gaze on the former teacher. "We want to know where you put a silver locket with the letter 'S' on it! You took it off Mundungus Fletcher! It's my property and I want it back!"

"Well, you can't have it! I'm keeping it!"

"Tell. Me. Where. It. IS! Or I'll have to get rough with you!" Harry showed his fangs. "Would you like to know what we did to Lord Voldemort?"

"Lord Voldemort is much too powerful to be captured by three silly schoolchildren! You're lying again, Harry Potter, and you know how much I hate liars!"

"Come to the cellars at 12 Grimmauld Place and you can see him! Of course, he's not in good shape right at the moment!" gloated Ron. "We were quite rough with him, because he did so many bad things and because he's Lord Voldemort!"

"In any case, we're wasting nighttime," snapped Hermione, not amused by the byplay. "Give us that damned locket, Umbitch, or we'll make you sorry you were ever born!" Hermione pointed her wand. "_Imperio_!"

Umbridge's face went slack and her jaw gaped open slightly. Hermione preened. "Did you boys forget we can do that, too?" She turned back to Umbridge. "Where is the locket?"

"On my bedside table," murmured Umbridge. Ron disappeared into her bedroom, and came back with the locket. He held it out in the tips of his fingers.

"It feels bad, somehow," Ron whispered. "It's like I can feel the soul bit that was in it."

"Well, we got what we came here for," Harry remarked. "Now, what do we do with Umbitch?"

"I have a great idea," Hermione smiled nastily. She waved her wand at the squat witch. "Umbridge. Pick up that sweater, and hand it to Bunky!" Helplessly, Umbridge did as Hermione told her to do.

Bunky held the sweater and his eyes went wide. "Mistress gave Bunky clothing! Bunky is free!" He began to weep with happiness. "Bunky is free at last!"

"Now that you're free, Bunky, what do you want to do?" Hermione asked gently.

Bunky looked at Umbridge. A slow, evil smile began to spread across the elf's face. "Bunky owes Bad Toad Lady many, many debts, and Bunky wants to pay them off!"

"And on that note, we'll leave," Harry drawled, pocketing the locket. "Kreacher, Dobby, you can help Bunky out if you want. Oh, one last thing…" He pointed his wand at Umbridge. "_Finite Incantatem!_" With the Imperius gone, Umbridge nearly collapsed, her eyes widening with terror.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione left through the Floo, they heard the first of what they knew would be many, many screams.

END Chapter 10


	11. Chapter 11

The Trio who Returned

Chapter 11

by Technomad

Tossing and catching the silver locket in a gloved hand, Harry said, "Well, that's another one down. What's next, the cup or the diadem?"

"I vote for the diadem. It's easier to get to." Hermione yawned, revealing her long, sharp canines. "The cup is in the Lestrange vault at Gringott's; it's not going anywhere. At least not soon. The Lestranges' wills left everything to their friends, in lieu of Andromeda Tonks. Pity their friends have had so many awful accidents, isn't it?"

"Gee, you think someone has it in for them?" Ron grinned…or at least he showed his teeth. "I can't imagine anybody holding them in any ill-will, can you?"

"Don't need to imagine, do we?" All three vampires shared a long, unpleasant laugh. Harry glanced at the window, to see that the earliest light of dawn was just visible, off to the east.

"Time for us to be asleep, I think. It's been a longish night." At that, all three of them trooped off to the cellar, where their coffins awaited them.

The next night, they were back up at Hogwarts, having informed Professor McGonagall that they were coming. They were let straight into the Headmistress' office; Harry figured that Professor McGonagall might be their friend, at least on a personal level, but she did not want three vampires traipsing around her school ad-lib! He nodded. In her shoes he'd have done much the same.

The Headmistress now knew better than to offer them refreshments. She sat behind her desk, watching them carefully. "So, what brings you back here? You seem to have been busy lately." For a second, she smiled. "Apparently poor Dolores Umbridge had a dreadful accident of some sort last night. Do I detect your fine hands in the matter?"

Harry, as spokesman, leaned forward. "On that subject, ma'am, we are…coy. We're here to unearth one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes. It's hidden here in the school."

At this, McGonagall recoiled in horror. "A horcrux? In my school? That's disgusting! How many did that madman make, anyway?"

"Seven," Hermione answered. "Of those, four have been destroyed, we've located and obtained one, and we know where the other two are." She grinned wolfishly, clearly savoring her old teacher's discomfort at what she had become. "Once the last of them is gone, our dear friend is as mortal as you are."

"Merlin help us," McGonagall muttered. "Where do you say this object is hidden? I won't have it in my school, I won't! To think of the danger to my students…I want it out of here!"

"We're on the same page, ma'am," Ron said. "As for where it is…"

The four of them stood in the third-floor corridor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy's unsuccessful attempt to teach trolls to do ballet. Harry explained: "It's called the Room of Requirement. According to Dobby, the elves call it the 'Come and Go Room.' Basically, it'll appear when you need it for something. Riddle hid his horcrux in it."

"How do you open it?" Curious, McGonagall looked at the wall. "I don't see any sign of a door!"

"Riddle said you have to walk up and down in front of it three times, thinking about what you want. Shall I try?" Harry walked up and down, to no avail. Then Ron took a turn, and finally Hermione. "Damn it, what's wrong? This _should_ work! By now, Riddle's so-called mind can't work well enough to let him keep any secrets from us!"

"I don't know. Maybe you should try it, Professor?" Hermione gestured to the wall, and McGonagall obediently stepped forward, walking up and down, up and down, up and down… "There! There it is!" A door had appeared in what had been a blank section of wall. "Maybe it's because we are…what we are…that we couldn't make it work. Is that likely, Professor?"

"It's quite possible, Miss Granger. Let us hope that the door does admit you." With McGonagall in the lead, as befit her status as Headmistress, the four of them entered the Room of Requirement.

"Will you look at this?" All four of them gazed around them in wonderment. All around them, piles of junk rose over their heads; the walls of the room were distant enough to be difficult to see. "How long do you think it'll take to find the Horcrux?" Ron shook his head. "It'll take days!"

"According to Dobby, the Room will provide what we need. We can stay here as long as we have to." Hermione began systematically examining one of the piles of debris.

"In that case, I've a school to run. When and if you find your Horcrux, please notify me immediately." McGonagall left, and Harry sensed that she was glad to be away from them. While she was a person of rigid self-control, anybody sane would be nervous next to three vampires. Vampires, after all, regarded people as a food source_. If she knew what we've done to keep ourselves in blood, she'd never let us near her again_, thought Harry.

Hermione organized the hunt. The room was divided into zones, and the friends combed through each object they could find in one zone at a time. Only when a zone was as thoroughly searched as they could do would they mark it as exhausted.

Most of what they found was junk; the house-elves had apparently used the Room as a catch-all for broken or useless items they'd found around the school for centuries. Broken potion ingredient jars, ripped and burnt books, and damaged furniture were everywhere. Pausing for a moment, Harry shook his head. "Good job there's never been a fire in here!"

"I know what you mean. This is a disaster waiting to happen!" Hermione looked at her watch. "Hey, it's getting on to dawn. What do you say we knock off?"

Harry nodded. "We'd better do that. This place doesn't have any windows, but I don't want to take chances with daylight. Wonder if there are any coffins here that we could borrow?"

As he spoke, three coffins, just like the ones in the cellars of Grimmauld Place, appeared out of nowhere. Harry's red-rimmed green eyes opened wide. "That's service! Guess they don't call this the Room of Requirement for nothing!"

"Dumbledore mentioned finding it once, and finding a chamber pot there, when he needed to pee, didn't he?" Hermione mused. "I'm surprised that he didn't investigate it in greater depth. He might have found that damned Horcrux."

"Well, we can't ask him now. Let's get to bed!" With that, Harry climbed into "his" coffin, and the others followed his example. Soon the sun would be up, and they had to be sheltered from its deadly rays.

When the sun went down behind the Scottish hills, the three friends felt life returning to them. Harry pushed the coffin lid open, seeing that Hermione and Ron were doing the same. "The red thirst is strong on me. I-" As Harry spoke, a table appeared with three plastic bags on it, labeled with the name of a Glasgow blood bank. "Blimey! This place is wonderful!" He grabbed one of the bags and drained it after tearing a corner off with his teeth. Feeling the blood hitting his system felt wonderful; he could feel his strength and vigor increasing. His friends followed his example. "Ah! The pause that refreshes! And no corpses to get rid of!"

"If the room can sense what we want, why not try using that to find the Horcrux?" Hermione asked, daintly dabbing at her bloodstained lips with a handkerchief. "It'd be faster than combing through all this damned garbage!"

"Let's concentrate on finding it." Suiting action to words, Harry closed his eyes, thinking as hard as he could: I need to find the thing Tom Riddle left here! I need to find the thing Tom Riddle left here! I need to find the thing Tom Riddle left here!

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an old bust. On top of the bust was a diadem. "Is that it?" he whispered. He hardly dared believe it.

Hermione approached carefully, her wand at the ready. She cast several spells. "It gives off powerful magic, and radiates evil the same way the locket did," she reported. "I think we may have found it."

When Harry gently picked it off the bust, he could feel the same feeling-a tingling in his hands-that he'd got earlier from the locket. "Yes, this is definitely it. The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw! Lost for Merlin-knows-how-long!" He felt a moment's sadness. "Pity we've got to destroy it!"

"I know what you mean. Let's get it out of here," Hermione said mournfully. "I'd like to come back here sometime and really go through this place, but right now, we've got a Dark Lord to destroy, and we've got to find those stupid Horcruxes!"

Several hours later, after a conference with Professor McGonagall, they were back at Grimmauld Place.

"The only one we still need to find is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. At last report, it was in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringott's. How do we get into one of those?" Hermione mused, staring at the locket and diadem as though they were both deadly vipers.

"One of my brothers works at Gringott's, as a curse breaker. I'll ask Bill what he thinks." Ron spoke up. They all nodded. That was a good idea.

"Let's go decrease the local thug population!" Everybody liked Harry's idea, and soon three bats flew off the roof of Grimmauld Place, heading for areas where they knew they'd soon find the prey they desired. The packages of blood had been lifesavers, but there was nothing like the taste of rich, red blood fresh from the source!

END Chapter 11


	12. Chapter 12

The Trio Who Returned

by Technomad

Chapter 12

The three friends considered, and discarded, various ways to get into the Lestrange vault. "Breaking in is right straight out," Ron said; he'd talked with his brother Bill by Floo. "They've precautions in place that'll fry us if we try it."

"Even now that we are…what we are?" Hermione looked up from a book she had found in the Grimmauld Place library, _Jane's_ _Vampires, Liches and Undead of the World_. "We can turn into mist, remember?"

"Even so." Ron looked uncommonly grim. "Gringott's has been around for nearly a thousand years, and they've weathered every threat to their damn vaults that the mind of wizard or witch can come up with. If only there were a way in!"

"What makes you think that's so?" Harry had been staring unseeingly out of the window, out across the desolate roofs surrounding Grimmauld Place. The moon was out, half-hidden by scudding clouds, casting a desolate glow on the scene. "Why are you so ready to give up?"

"Go on, Harry," Hermione said, closing her book to pay attention to her friend. "You seem to have an idea. Let us know what it is."

"Bellatrix Lestrange left her vault to her relatives, who're mostly dead. However, Andromeda Tonks is still alive, isn't she?"

"Yes…" Hermione looked thoughtful. "We can go look at the tapestry. But as I remember it, she's the last of the Black sisters still alive."

"And as the closest living relative, I think she'd have a good claim to that vault," Harry said. Hermione and Ron's eyes lit up.

"Yes! The goblins don't care much about human wills. To them, family is all in all. They wouldn't care that Andromeda was disowned!" Ron's eyes lit up. "Let's Floo Tonks and have her talk to her mum!"

When they got through to her on the Floo, Andromeda Tonks proved to be a nice, normal woman, unlike her two crazy evil sisters. "Why, Harry Potter! It's such a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last! You look so like your father…"

"But I have my mother's eyes," Harry intoned, in chorus with Andromeda. "Look, Madame Tonks, could you step through? My friends and I have a huge favor to ask of you, and it'll take a lot of explaining."

"Of course, darling!" Madame Tonks stepped through the Floo into Grimmauld Place. "Why, Ronald Weasley! Your poor mother's worried sick about you! Why haven't you owled?" She smiled at Hermione. "And is this the little girl that you're so sweet on? My, you are a pretty one!"

"Madame Tonks, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Madame Tonks. Madame, we've got quite a favor to ask. Would you be willing to put us in your Gringott's vault?"

"In my Gringott's vault? I don't have a Gringott's vault! What are you talking about, Harry Potter? You're looking awfully peaked. Have you been eating right?" She put her hand on Harry's forehead, looking very concerned. "Harry! You're cold as ice! You're not well! What in the world is the matter with you?"

"Sit down, Madame Tonks." Gently, but firmly, Harry led Madame Tonks over to a chair. "This is going to take some explaining…"

After some verbal explanations, and demonstrations of their powers, Madame Tonks was finally convinced that they were what they were. "But, Harry, darling, of course I'll help! You say you can't use owls any more, and can't go out by daylight? I'll be happy to owl my solicitors, and I'm sure Gringott's will see the light!"

"Excellent!" Harry smiled, noting in passing that Madame Tonks paled slightly at the sight of his fangs. "Well, it's late…for you, that is…and we mustn't keep you. As soon as you've got access, let us know." Smiling rather shakily, Madame Tonks shook their hands, and stepped into the Floo to go back to her home.

Once she was gone, they put out the fire, and called Kreacher and Dobby. "Madame Tonks now knows what we are, and how to get in here. We trust her…but we'd rather not take too many chances. During daylight hours, you're to keep this house sealed tight against _any_ intruders, no matter _who_ they are. We're quite helpless during the daylight."

"Kreacher will watch! No bad wizards or witches will get in while Kreacher's on duty!" Kreacher bowed low.

"And Dobby will watch, too! Between Dobby and Kreacher, any bad wizards or witches who try getting in here will rue the day!" Dobby looked as fierce as he could, which wasn't very. Considering that he'd seen Dobby face down Lucius Malfoy, though, Harry knew that looks were deceiving.

"Excellent! We'll be back before sunrise! Come, Ron, Hermione! The game's afoot!" With looks of gloating anticipation, the Trio exited, to find new victims among London's huge criminal class.

OOO

It was about a week later when Harry, Hermione and Ron came in from yet another "hunting expedition"…this one involving luring some muggers into a deserted alley before turning the tables on them…to find a letter waiting for them on the table.

Harry checked it with his wand, before picking it up. "Right. It's not a portkey or anything like that. Let's see what it says!" The others gathered around, curiosity shining from their ruddy, fair, slightly-bloated faces, as Harry casually extruded a long claw and slit the envelope.

Sure enough, it was from Andromeda Tonks. _Dear Harry, Hermione and Ron_, it began. _I spoke with my solicitor, and he spoke in his turn with the solicitors for Gringott's. Apparently the goblins agree that I'm the rightful heir to that vault. Your plan should work; I've got three of the items you need here at my home. Let me know when you want to do this, and we'll take it from there. I can send you a Portkey that'll bring you to my home. Yours truly, Andromeda (Black) Tonks._

"She's as nice as her daughter is. Beats me, how she turned out so nice coming from that family," Ron commented. He grinned unpleasantly. "Good job we didn't tell her what we did with her sister, isn't it?"

"Yes, a good job," Hermione nodded, as she licked her lips at the memory of Narcissa's pure blood and how it had tasted. She had personally drained Narcissa, battening on the woman's throat until th last drops of blood had ceased flowing. Afterwards, she had rhapsodized about the flavor. "Maybe there is something to this pureblood nonsense?" The others had disagreed, saying that Draco and Lucius' blood tasted like the bottom of an old birdcage. Hermione had wondered aloud how they knew what the bottom of an old birdcage would taste like, and that had led to a session of mutual teasing that had nearly trapped them there when daylight came.

"Well, our schedule's free tomorrow. Let's plan on doing it then, shall we?" Harry's idea was met with unanimous approval, and the Trio headed for their coffins in the basement. They knew that with Kreacher and Dobby both on guard, they could sleep securely.

When they awoke, they first hunted, drinking deeply of their victims. "We don't know for sure how long this is going to take, and I don't fancy being incapacitated by my own red thirst," Ron said, wiping blood from his mouth fastidiously.

"Good point." Once all three of them were fed as full as they could get, they contacted Madame Tonks via Floo, and she came on through to Grimmauld Place.

"My, you are looking healthier! See, I made this Portkey. With it, you can go straight to my solicitor's office. He'll be expecting you!" She held out a length of rope. All three of the Trio took hold, and when Madame Tonks triggered it, they were yanked into the office of Mortimer and Sons Solicitors.

Mortimer was a rather weak wizard who had "gone Muggle;" after getting his OWLs he had gone into the Muggle world, ending up taking a degree from a Muggle university and becoming a solicitor. His sons had done the same thing, and all of them had ended up making a good living catering to the wizards in cases where it had to interface with the Muggle world. What with the limited number of solicitors that were cleared to know about magic, they had little competition, and could easily charge scalpers' prices for their services.

Waiting for the Trio were three big boxes; not shaped exactly like coffins, but about as roomy, and padded on the inside. Harry got into his first, and nodded. "It feels all right. Once daylight's on the way, we'll get into these, and you can close the lids." He noticed that the boxes had catches on the inside that would release the lids. Although he and the others could turn into mist, it was rather strenuous to do so, and he preferred not to change shape unless it was necessary.

They sat around the office and waited. At first, the humans were nervous around them, as they sat there, still as predators waiting for prey, but gradually, as the evening wore on, they got used to the vampires' presence. Finally, as the first grey fingers of dawn appeared in the east, they arose, and got into their boxes. The solicitors shut the lids, and they closed the catches holding them shut, and lay back, waiting for the death-like trance of day to take them.

Harry's last thought was a hope that none of the people to whom they were entrusting themselves were treacherous.

Later that morning, Andromeda Tonks showed up at Gringotts' Bank. The goblins knew her as a large-scale depositor, both in her own right and as the sole surviving heiress of the Blacks, so when she informed them, in icily patrician tones, that she was planning a trip out of town and needed to store some boxes containing Black family heirlooms, they eagerly accomodated her.

"And how would Lady Black like these to be stored?" said Griphook, bowing almost double and rubbing his hands as though washing them with invisible soap.

"In the vault formerly belonging to my dead sister, I believe," drawled Andromeda. "I believe there is sufficient room in there for these. I may be back for them soon, though."

"Of course, of course, we are always happy to serve our valued depositors!" Griphook scurried away, calling on lesser gobins to hurry, to take the Lady Black's goods on down to her vault. She insisted on coming along, watching the whole thing like a hawk until the boxes were arranged to her satisfaction. When she was done, she rode back to the surface in the cart, and tipped each goblin enough that they smiled doglike smiles and loudly hoped they'd see her again.

Once she was well away, Andromeda visibly relaxed, with a soft "Whew!" She had been on pins and needles the whole time. She had been deathly afraid lest some goblin security she hadn't known about would reveal what she had just put into her vault, or that some goblin would accidentally or on purpose open one of the boxes.

She thought of the interior of the vault, dark as any tomb. "If anybody should be at home in such a place, they should be," she muttered. She stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and ordered herself a nice stiff drink. Hoisting it in a toast, she muttered: "Best of British to all three of you, and I hope you do find what you're looking for without any mishaps!" She could still think of all sorts of ways things could go badly wrong. She had taken precautions, of course, but still… "Better you than me!"

Inside the vault, all was still until the sun had gone down outside, even though it was far below the surface of the earth. Harry stirred, disoriented for a second, until he remembered what he was doing and lit his wand to find the latches that held his box closed. Lifting the lid, he saw that his two friends were doing the same.

The three friends stood there for a second, their wands illuminating the scene, their mouths open in wonder. All around them were riches incalculable. The Blacks were a wealthy, ancient family, and they had been amassing treasure for centuries. Hermione's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Merlin! Look at those books! These were thought to be lost centuries ago!" She knelt, looking at the spines, reaching out to caress the leather bindings.

"_Look_ at all this _gold_!" Ron's red eyes shone with greed. "My family could live for centuries on what's in here!"

"Keep focussed, and remember your vows," Harry snapped, unwillingly tearing his eyes away from the wonders that surrounded them. The Trio had had to make some specific, very strictly worded wizarding vows before Andromeda Black would trust them in the vault, even to get rid of a Horcrux belonging to the Dark Lord himself. Harry watched Ron, in particular, with narrowed eyes. Ron wasn't a bad sort…but he had always hated his family's poverty, and wouldn't have been above a little creative redistribution of wealth. Hermione was less prone to temptation, but she bore watching, too.

Reminded of why they were there, Ron and Hermione broke out of their trances, looking around in all directions. They knew what Helga Hufflepuff's cup had looked like; Harry had drawn them a picture, based on his own memories of what he'd seen in Dumbledore's Penseive.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Is that it, up there?" He pointed to a shelf, on which rested, among other things, a small golden cup.

"Yes, that looks a lot like it. Let me test." Harry cast a spell to reveal magic, and half of the objects in the room began to glow in various colors. The cup glowed, too, but in a different set of colors from anything else; a sickly purple like a bad bruise, combined with the sort of green to be expected on something gone rotten, and a phosphorescent white.

"That should be it, I think." Harry walked over, and reached out to grab the cup. Hermione shrieked.

"Harry! Gloves!" Harry turned, and Hermione tossed him a pair of dragon-hide gloves. "I packed those along in case we needed them. I don't want you touching that thing with your bare flesh. Merlin only knows what sort of protective enchantments it has on it!"

"Oh. I should have thought of that. Thanks, Hermione," Harry smiled, pulling on the gloves. He reached out, and grasped the cup, lifting it easily. "There. That's that. Now, all we have to do is wait. How's your red thirst?"

"Quite bearable," Hermione said.

"I'm all right, for tonight at least," Ron agreed. He smiled ominously. "But when we get let out tomorrow night-!"

"Just keep yourselves under control. The people opening those boxes will be our friends, remember?" With that admonition ringing in their ears, they settled down to wait. Hermione pulled out one of the rare books, sitting there with her wand in her hand and her head bent over the pages, while Ron and Harry started a rather desultory discussion of Quidditch.

END Chapter 12

(_Author's note: Sorry this took so long to update, but I had an awful time figuring out a way for them to get into Lestrange's vault. I also got sidetracked by other writing projects_.)


	13. Chapter 13

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 13

by Technomad

The long night wore on. The three friends said nothing; there was little to say. Once they had checked that the books in the vault were safe to handle, they each took a book and sat back, quietly reading by wandlight.

Harry basked in the companionship and camaraderie they shared. For most of his first eleven years on earth, he had been alone, even in a crowd. The Dursleys had seen to that, very effectively. With one part of his mind, he contemplated paying all three of his horrible relatives a visit one dark night. He pictured them, gliding on in, battening on the Dursleys' blood until they were sated. _Uncle Vernon and Dudley in particular_, he thought, _would be rich, juicy and full of the red juice of life!_

Sternly, he told himself that what he was thinking about was wrong. So far, he and his friends had subsisted on the blood of evildoers, Death Eaters and others who preyed upon the defenseless. But what would they do if there were no more such people?

The more he puzzled over it, the more he worried. He was well on the way to ending Voldemort forever, but what would be the point of victory if he became as bad as, or worse than, Voldemort?

Hermione, clever Hermione, noticed his agitation. "Is something wrong, Harry?"

"Yeah, Hermione, I'm worried. We've been totally focussed on defeating Voldemort. We're well on the way to victory, too. But what do we do after that?" He took off his glasses, cleaning them with a hanky he took from his pocket. Ever since his resurrection, his vision had been perfect, but his glasses were a link to his lost humanity. He would have really hated to lose them.

Hermione gave him a rather evil smile. "We go on. And on. And on. We now have eternity to play with, in a way that Voldemort and his Death Munchers never thought of."

"But what if we run out of evil people to prey on? We could be worse than the Death Eaters, in the long run!"

Hermione patted his head, her smile mocking in the dim wandlight. "Oh, Harry, Harry, you're such a naif sometimes! If there's one thing we'll never run short of, it's deserving targets!" She leaned back sensuously, stretching like a cat. When Harry had been human, he'd have found the sight very interesting, but it just meant that Hermione was getting comfortable.

Staring up into the darkness of the vault, Hermione purred: "We could kill every night from now till the crack of doom, and we'd still have a target-rich environment!" She licked her lips, her fangs showing white, as she contemplated such a lovely thought. "Do you think the Death Eaters came out of nowhere, that Voldemort created them, _ex nihilo_?"

"No, but…"

"Evil wizards and witches will _always_ exist, my friend. And as for Muggle criminals, every one of those we kill means that many fewer break-ins, armed robberies, hold-ups, rapes and murders down the line! If anything, the Muggle authorities should give us medals!"

Ron looked up from the book he'd found, a compendium of great wizard chess games. "But what if our red thirst takes us over?" He shook his head. "I'm full for right now, but I don't like to think of how I'll feel when night falls again!"

"Lucky thing that the people who are to take us out of here know the danger, and will be well out of the way when night falls!" Hermione glanced at her watch; it had a glow-in-the-dark dial. "And, on that note, dawn is coming apace. Time for all good little _nosferatu_ to put their books down and toddle off to their coffins!"

That statement produced a laugh, just as she had intended. Harry and Ron both made rather rude gestures at Hermione as they headed for their boxes, gestures that she cheerfully returned.

OOO

The day wore on, and when they awoke again, they found that Andromeda had, indeed, come through with her part of the plan. They awoke to find themselves in the basement of her house. As they unlatched the boxes they had been in and got out, they found that their hostess was, indeed, a gracious hostess.

Glaring angrily, but tied up and gagged securely, were several unmistakable thugs. "Look! Brekkers!" carolled Hermione. Harry and Ron both smiled. The thugs' eyes went wide with terror as the trio approached, their fangs showing and their eyes glowing red with bloodlust.

When they had finished, making sure that the thugs would not, themselves, rise as vampires, Harry wondered aloud: "What to do with the bodies?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "And you a wizard! Have you forgotten Transfiguration? Or what Barty Crouch did with his father's body?" She waved her wand and muttered a spell, and the three hoodlums were transformed into sacks of rubbish. She grinned wickedly. "It does seem appropriate, doesn't it, now?"

"And nobody will notice three more sacks of refuse. Good work, Miss Granger!" Andromeda Tonks had carefully not come near them until their red thirst had been assuaged; she had been warned explicitly about the danger involved in that.

"We can smell blood," Harry had explained, as his friends nodded. "Normally, it's no big deal. No more than it would be for you, walking along a street, to smell good things cooking in a restaurant or someone's home. But if we haven't fed in a while, the red thirst gets stronger and stronger."

"We've never gone without for long enough to lose control," Ron had said, his expression grim. "I don't know what would happen if we were starved for any length of time, but I think that what would happen to any warm-blooded creature that came across us would not be pretty."

"Not at all," Hermione agreed. "We've strength far in excess of any normal human, wizard or Muggle. Right now, I could go up against the meanest bruisers in the Eastern Hemisphere barehanded, and leave them broken, bleeding wrecks. _That_ is part of why we're dangerous to have around."

Having fed, though, all three vampires were perfectly capable of behaving in a civilized way. "Madame Tonks! Good to see you!" Stepping forward, heedless of the blood on their shirts and dribbling down the sides of their mouths, they shook hands with their hostess.

"Good to see you, too, dears," Madame Tonks said. "And, if I may suggest…bathing might be a good idea? And new clothes?" She tactfully indicated the clothes the trio were wearing, which were stained, smelly and now had blood on them.

Reminded, the trio looked themselves and each other over. "You have a good point, Madame Tonks." Harry admitted ruefully. "Before we do, though, we have this to put some place safe." He held up the cup, wrapped in leather bindings. "This, Madame Tonks, is a part of Voldemort's soul!"

Madame Tonks' eyes went wide. "Merlin! To think that something that evil could be in my house! As soon as you're bathed and changed, I want that horrible thing out of here! Merlin only knows what it could do!"

"We'll just do that, ma'am. We're sorry to have to bring it here, but we do operate under restrictions that others don't face." With that, Harry, Ron and Hermione trooped up to the bathroom. After they were all showered, they found fresh clothes in their sizes waiting for them in one of the bedrooms. Unselfconsciously, they dressed; they'd all crowded into the shower together to save on time. London summer nights were short, and they had a great deal to do.

Back at Grimmauld Place, they found Voldemort asleep in his restraints. "Wakey, wakey, Tom!" Hermione said cheerfully, reaching out and pinching him hard. "Guess what _we_ got, you disgusting waste of perfectly good oxygen and blood?" Mockingly, she held out the Hufflepuff Cup in her gloved hand.

Despite all he had been through, Voldemort knew what his horcruxes were. He moaned, struggling against his shackles, trying to reach the Cup. "Naughty, naughty, little Dork Lard!" Hermione gloated, putting the Cup into a lead-lined box with special runes on all six of its surfaces. "Mustn't touchies things that belongs to other people!"

A cup on a shelf nearby shattered, and Kreacher Apparated in. "Mighty mistress," he implored, bowing himself nearly double, "please do not be agitating the evil wizard! He doesn't remember how to do magic, but he can still do accidental magic!"

"Like we all do when we're children," Ron put in. "Best keep him sedated. Kreacher, do you know where the Calming Potions are?"

"Oh, yes, mighty master! Kreacher and Dobby have been keeping the evil wizard under control, but sometimes it is not easy! Calming Potions should be just the thing!" Soon the elves appeared, one carrying a big bottle of commercially-made Calming Potion and the other a long tube.

"What's the tube for?" asked Harry.

Dobby's grin was as evil as any of theirs. "If Bad Wizard doesn't take his potion," he explained, "Kreacher and I will force-feed him! Through his nose!"

"Or administer it anally. That works. Had to do it for one of my old masters who outlived his mind," Kreacher added.

As the elves got to work, Harry murmured: "It's a shame that we can't take pictures! Imagine how few people would fear this worthless wretch if they saw him having nutrition forced down his throat!"

Hermione smiled. "As it happens, there is a camera upstairs! Now, Kreacher and Dobby, just be patient for a few minutes!" She darted upstairs, and came back down with a camera of the sort that Colin Creevey had once used. and Harry and Ron both grinned triumphantly.

Sure enough, the pictures of the Dark Lord being force-fed through his nose were one of the biggest hits that the _Quibbler_ had ever had. Harry had vetoed giving them to the Prophet, so they had been given instead to Andromeda Tonks with instructions to mail them to the _Quibbler_. "Luna will be so pleased," murmured Hermione.

The next night, the three friends Apparated to Hogsmeade, with a rune-inscribed box. Once they sent word up to the castle of why they were there, they were soon met by Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Both teachers stared at the box in wonder. "So small, to contain so much evil," Snape murmured, stroking his left forearm as though it pained him.

"We were hoping that you…both of you…could cast Fiendfyre to destroy these things," Hermione said. "I was reading about Horcruxes, and Fiendfyre is one way to be sure they're destroyed, once and for all. But we don't know how to cast or control Fiendfyre."

"So you came to us. A wise choice, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall murmured, not taking her eyes off the box. "Fiendfyre is particularly difficult to deal with. Only a truly talented wizard or witch can reliably handle it, and if it's out of control it can cause all sorts of damage."

They took the box out into a nearby meadow that had once been the Quidditch pitch, before the current one had been constructed. There were bricks and stones from the old stands still around, and Harry rapidly constructed a crude approximation of a firepit. Once he was done, he took the box, opened it, and shook the Horcruxes out, careful to not touch them. The vampires and their friends looked at the pile of innocuous-looking objects for a second, before McGonagall cast the charm and flame erupted from the tip of her wand.

The Fiendfyre was like no other fire that Harry or his friends had ever seen. They stepped back fearfully as it coalesced into a living creature, obviously struggling to escape their improvised firepit. McGonagall raised her wand, controlling it, but clearly with some difficulty. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the coolth of the night.

As the Horcruxes were consumed, Harry could hear voices keening from the fire, screaming in agony. The thought of Voldemort's spirit writhing in torment was pleasant, and he smiled broadly. Hermione was also clearly pleased, and Ron was grinning like the Devil's own jack o'lantern.

Finally, it was over, and McGonagall managed to extinguish the Fiendfyre. "Whew! Thank Merlin that's over with!" she muttered. "I don't know if I could do that again for a while. Not at my age…"

"You are like fine wine, Professor. Wine improves with age," Harry said. She gave him a smile.

"You flatter me, Mr. Potter. But now that these things are gone, does that mean that the Dark Lord is mortal?" 

"_Oooh_ yes," Harry said, his eyes flashing red at the thought. "We need to get back to London. It's time for _fun_!" As they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, Harry saw McGonagall and Snape exchanging worried glances. He wondered if they were worried about the same thought that had occurred to him in the vault. _What do we __do__ if there's no more evil people to fight? _He shuddered at the thought of preying on folk who had done nothing wrong.

Once they were back, they went down into the cellar, and found Voldemort hanging there, insensible, with the two elves on guard. Harry pointed his wand. "Ennervate!" Voldemort looked up blearily. "Guess what? All your Horcruxes are history. And soon, you will be, too!"

Kreacher and Dobby jumped up and down with joy. "Oh, happy day, mighty masters and mistress! We elves is so happy that you let us watch!"

Harry hadn't really thought about them, but he had no objection. "Ready, Ron, Hermione?" He looked at his friends, and smiled at how they quivered with eagerness. Their fangs were fully extended, their fingers had extruded long claws, and they barely looked human.

With snarls of rage, Harry, Ron and Hermione lit into the helpless Voldemort, tearing him limb from limb, an inch at a time. They made sure to make it last, saving his head and torso for the end. When they were done, they stood back, panting. "Will you dispose of this rubbish for us, Kreacher, Dobby?" Harry asked politely. Wide-eyed at the ferocity of their masters and mistress, the two elves leapt to obey.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm past knackered, and dawn's well on the way," Harry commented, heading toward his coffin as the other two followed.

As he pulled down the lid, the last thing he heard was Hermione's voice saying "They'll call this the Night of a Thousand Screams, when they come to write the history texts one day."

END


	14. Chapter 14

The Trio Who Returned

Chapter 14

by Technomad

The next night, when the trio arose from their coffins, Harry said "We should tell Professor McGonagall about what's happened. She'll want to know."

The wish was father to the deed; the Floo was soon burning, and Harry knelt down to call their former teacher. "Professor McGonagall? We've got good news to report."

"Well, come on through! I want to hear this!"

When Professor McGonagall heard all about what they'd done to Voldemort, she turned pale, but smiled. "I can't approve of torturing anyone…even _him_…but I can't really blame you. He made your lives a misery for years."

Professor Snape, sitting in a corner, chimed in with: "Last night my Dark Mark faded and disappeared. If you did miss any Death Eaters, they'll be hard to find now."

Hermione smiled, showing her fangs, and both teachers shuddered. "Oh, I don't _think_ we missed any. We were pretty _thorough_." She stretched luxuriously, like a satisfied cat.

"Any that we missed are insignificant enough not to worry us, and if they come to our attention…" Ron's grin would have frightened anybody. "Well, we can deal with them the way we dealt with their friends."

"You speak so casually of killing people. What happened to the sweet gentle children I used to know?" mourned McGonagall. "I remember your Sortings. You were so eager, so young…"

"Children grow up, Professor. You of all people should know that." Harry's voice was flat.

"And, speaking of children," said McGonagall, "there are some people here who want to see you." She rang a small bell, and the door opened, to reveal Arthur and Molly Weasley. Behind them, Ginny Weasley came in. Ron, Harry and Hermione all gasped in shock. McGonagall and Snape discreetly left the room, clearly not feeling that such an intimate moment was suitable for them.

"Did you think we'd forgotten you?" asked Arthur. "You dropped out of sight so completely! We were worried sick!"

"Oh, my dears, you all look so pale! Have you been eating right?" sobbed Molly. "I kept picturing you, lost, hungry, unable to take care of yourselves…"

Harry and his friends exchanged glances. "Uh, Mum…we have some news for you," Ron began. "I don't think you're going to like to hear about it…"

Ron had been exactly right. The news did not please either of his parents. Molly reacted first, while Arthur sat there, paralyzed with shock.

"I don't care! You're still my littlest boy! I want you to come home with me!"

Ron gave his friends a helpless look. They shrugged their shoulders, refusing to take sides between him and his parents. He left with them, and once they had Flooed back to the Burrow, Harry and Hermione both felt as though part of themselves had been taken away.

Now that her parents were gone, Ginny clearly felt that the coast was clear. She threw herself into Harry's arms. Harry gave Hermione a horrified look and tried to disentangle himself from the redhead. "Ginny! You know what we _are_, don't you?"

"Yes! And I don't care! I want to be with you! Always!" She gave him a rather wild-eyed smile. "You have no idea of how jealous I was, you off in the wild doing extraordinary things while I was kept at home! What's Hermione got that I haven't got?" Hermione sniffed rather disdainfully and left; Harry wasn't happy that she had gone, but didn't know how to keep her there.

"These." Harry opened his mouth, showing Ginny how his fangs extruded and retracted at his will. Ginny's eyes went wide, and then she threw her head to one side, tearing open the top of her high-necked robe to expose her shapely, white neck.

"If that's what it takes, Harry, then that's what it takes! Take me! Turn me! I'm yours! Body and soul, I'm yours!"

Harry had not fed very recently, and the red thirst was strong. It grew stronger still as the scent of her filled his nostrils. He could smell her skin, redolent of soap and healthy girl, and beneath that, the odor of her blood, and his fangs ached in his jaws. His eyes went red, and he bent down to take Ginny and make her one of his own kind.

Then another vision flashed into his mind. Ginny, trapped eternally at age seventeen, having to watch as her beloved family all died, her classmates became wives and mothers, and she lingered on, as though she'd been preserved in amber. Ginny, ending up out of her time, prowling the night in a society in which she now no longer had a place, eventually succumbing to the terrible temptations that beset him and his friends every single night and becoming a predator as bad as any Death Eater.

He threw her away from him with all his strength. "No…" he whispered, as Ginny stared at him uncomprehendingly. "NO!" Ginny stepped forward, and Harry shrank away as though she were wielding a crucifix or garlic. "Get away from me! Get away!"

"But, Harry…" Ginny's eyes welled with tears. That was all it took. Harry turned and hurled himself through the window, heedless of the glass shattering; he knew that he would repair himself instantly when he shifted shape, and once he was in bat form, he flew away from Hogwarts as hard as he could, trying vainly to not hear the sobs of a heartbroken girl who loved him more than he felt he had ever deserved.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry shifted back into human form and scrambled in through one of the upstairs windows. He ran downstairs, and found Ron sitting in the living room, looking as though he were staring into Hell.

"Ron…I nearly sank my fangs into Ginny tonight!" Ron just looked at him, not really seeing him. "Ron! Did you hear what I said?"

Ron said "When we got back home, Mum offered me her neck. She said 'I fed you from my breast when you were a baby, and I see no difference between that and this. Come and drink!' I nearly took her up on it, before I remembered what we are and got out of there." Ron's voice was an uninflected monotone, very unlike his usual lively delivery. "I can drink from bad people. I can drink from Death Eaters. But this, I cannot do!"

"Ginny wants to be one of us," Harry replied. He sank into a chair, holding his head in his hands. "She's so innocent! She doesn't realize what being 'like us' entails!"

"And it gets worse," said Hermione, who had apparently been elsewhere in the house when Harry returned. "The other vampires have found out about us, and they want us to swear allegiance to one or another of their leaders. They have political feuds that make the worst Muggle or wizard ones look like nothing much, and since they're all but immortal, those go on for centuries! They're refighting the Wars of the Roses, those that aren't still bitter over the wars between Stephen and Matilda!" For a second, she grinned mirthlessly. "The bad blood, if you'll pardon the phrase, between Norman and English vampires was only patched up a few decades ago!"

They looked at each other for a few minutes. Ron finally broke the silence. "I never fancied being a Hogwarts ghost," he said slowly. "But this looks like being a whole order of magnitude worse!"

"And how long will it be before we get so separated from the human race as to see them as nothing but cattle for us to feed upon? We've centuries ahead of us at least, and more and more, our human lives will disappear into the distance. Have you ever met a really, really old vampire? They're such creatures of habit that they keep on doing things long after they even know why they're doing them. They just know that things must be done thus-and-so, and so they do them. What goes on in their minds?"

"I'm afraid that it may be time for us to say farewell," Harry said sadly. "The world has no more need for us. The Boy-Who-Lived carried out the mission he was born to fulfill, and his work is done. I'll not be too sorry to go, either. My parents will be glad to see me. That is, if I get to go where they are."

"Where you go, we go!" Ron said, as Hermione vigorously nodded agreement. "I don't want to become a monster, and this is not the life I wanted for myself!"

"But how do we do it?" asked Hermione. "Get Dobby to stake us in our coffins?" She shuddered. "I don't know about that. The instructions on how to kill vampires vary, and I wouldn't want it to be bungled."

"I've an idea!" Ron began to explain, and the other two nodded their agreement as he told them what he had come up with.

They had made their arrangements. A note had been placed for McGonagall to find, with their instructions about what to do. All that was left was to wait.

"Well...I have to say, it's been a long, strange trip," commented Hermione. She sat with her two friends on the Quidditch pitch. To the east, the sky was turning from blue to orange. The sun would be up soon.

"I know. I couldn't have done it without you two," Harry answered. He reached over and patted Hermione's hand. "You two...you're the best mates anybody could wish for. You've made it all worthwhile."

"I could wish we'd had longer together," mused Ron, looking toward the east. "Right now, every instinct I have is screaming at me to run away, find cover...but I know that that's the wrong thing to do."

"We're too dangerous to live, Ron," Hermione answered, her voice thick with the tears her pride forbade her to shed. "And if we don't do this, we'll go from bad to worse."

"I've fulfilled my destiny, and I'm at peace," Harry murmured. "If things had been different, Ginny and I...but there's no need to speculate on what-might-have-been."

By that time, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and their world was bathed in orange light.

When Minerva McGonagall walked into her office, she found a note waiting for her. As she read it, her face paled.

She found them on the Quidditch pitch. They were lying there, huddled close together. They looked completely untouched; if anything, they looked better than they ever had in life. She knelt beside them and ran a few diagnostic spells she'd learned from Madam Pomfrey, as well as checking their pulses and shining lights into their eyes.

When she was sure that life was extinct, she conjured up a chair and sat down beside them. Hagrid and Filch would be there in a little while, to do the needful, but she wanted some time alone. Some time to grieve in peace, before notifying the world that the Boy Who Lived lived no more.

Epilogue

Long after these events, a certain corner of the Hogsmeade cemetery was avoided by all sensible people, particularly after dark. Anybody who had to go near shuddered and carried apotropaic amulets as protection from evil.

In that corner, in a shady grove of hawthorn trees, stood a tomb. The walls were made of blocks of fieldstone, and the roof was a single slab of stone. The front door was sealed with a slab, and covered with an iron gate. All around the tomb, wild roses grew profusely, twining around every inch of its surface.

On the door, deeply carved, were these words:

_**Harry James Potter, Born July 31, 1980. Entered Rest May 31, 1998**_

_**Ronald Bilius Weasley, Born March 1, 1980. Entered Rest, May 31, 1998**_

_**Hermione Jean Granger, Born September 19, 1979. Entered Rest, May 31, 1998**_

_**Holders of the Order of Merlin, First Class (posthumous)**_

_**All Gave Some**_

_**They Gave All**_

**_Gods Grant They Lie Still_**

Below the inscription, a red-and-yellow Gryffindor scarf was knotted on the gate. Nobody knew how, or who had put it there, but it never seemed to fade.

THE END?


End file.
